by Sharon Wray
“How could you possibly know that?” Zack’s voice had gone dangerously low.
“Stuart told me all about you, your unit, and your commander, Colonel Kells Torridan.” Rue lifted her chin. “I know what Colonel Torridan did, what he’s capable of, and I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter. Because you, sir, are a coward.”
“Mother.” Allison grabbed Rue’s arm and dragged her toward a row of lavender bushes. “What is wrong with you?”
“Zack’s dangerous, Petal. The man he works for is dangerous. You have no idea what you’re involving yourself in. Zack will get you killed. He let another man lead his team.”
“I’d think you’d be relieved to get rid of me.”
Rue’s eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Even though you caused your father’s death and allowed Danny to die, you’re still my daughter.”
Allison released Rue’s arm and went back to Zack. His hands were still fisted, his gaze fixed firmly on her. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Rue’s voice rang out.
Allison waited while Rue talked to an acolyte who’d been cutting lavender. “Why?”
“I’ll give Nicholas Trott a treat while you look at the barn,” Rue said. “And I’ll see you at Stuart’s service.”
Allison was about to tell her mother to go to hell when Zack took her hand.
“Thank you,” Zack said.
Before Allison could argue, Zack started walking and pulled her hand until she followed.
“We need to do this.” Zack kissed Allison’s palm and held it against his chest. “For Emilie.”
Allison took one last look at her mother and said, “For Emilie.”
* * *
Zack held on to Allison’s hand while they headed for the barn. He wanted to address some of the things Rue had said, as well as Allison’s job offer, but now wasn’t the time.
They left the garden along a crushed shell pathway that led down along the riverbank. Meanwhile, Nicholas Trott bounded toward the house where he knew, apparently, there’d be treats.
Allison grimaced. “He needs a bath before the fourth Saturday of the month.”
“Does that matter?”
“The fourth Saturday of every month, from nine a.m. to eleven a.m., my college students and Susan help Nicholas Trott give autographs in my garden.”
“I don’t understand,” Zack said. “How—”
“Paw prints,” Allison said. “He dips his paw in a bowl of mud and presses it onto whatever people want. Except their bodies. I drew the line at that.”
They left the path and followed a worn trail that led to a gray barn on a ridge a hundred yards away from the river.
“Are you serious?” Zack coughed, probably to hide his laugh.
“Yes. In fact, one of my graduate students has a tattoo of Nicholas Trott on her butt.”
Zack stumbled until Allison grabbed his arm. When they reached the barn, she held the padlock. She had no idea what the new combination was but didn’t want to go back to ask Rue. After three failed tries, Allison spun the number for her brother’s birthday. It worked and the lock opened.
Zack helped her slide open the barn doors, and Allison turned on the light. The center room was filled with boxes.
“Wow. What is that smell?”
“Dried herbs for the absinthe. Rue’s acolytes grow all of the herbs on the property and dry them in the rafters.”
Zack looked up to see dozens of dried plants hanging on hooks. “That licorice smell?”
“Green anise. One of the main ingredients in absinthe.” She wandered around with her hands on her hips. “What is that fan sound?”
Zack pointed to the loft, which had been closed off. The door over the top of the stairs had a yellow-and-red sign that said DANGER. TERMITE REMEDIATION.
“Jeez,” Allison muttered. “I hate termites.”
Zack frowned. “Why do they need fans?”
“No idea.”
He maneuvered through the towers of crated bottles of Raven’s Retreat Absinthe. The room had such a heavy scent of herbs it was hard to discern one from the other. “Is it difficult seeing all these people living in your childhood home?”
“Sometimes. But I left at fourteen to live with my grandmother in New Orleans.”
He reached for her, but instead she walked around the barn, looking up at the ceiling. “There are some interesting carvings of skulls upstairs, but they’re not old enough. The original woodwork would be on the first floor.”
There was so much he wanted to say, to try and reach her, but she’d closed herself off. Then again, so had he. As much as they needed to talk, as worried as he was about her job offer, they also needed to work the mission. “I’ll check the support beams while you look at the door lintels and window frames.”
“Good plan.” She left him to check out the front door while he examined the perimeter.
Minutes later, she said, “I found one.”
He met her by the back entrance. She stood on her toes and ran her fingers over the lintel above the door. “Feel this.”
Being taller, it was easier for him to see the wood. “Do you have the flashlight?”
She pulled it out of her tote bag and handed it to him. “What do you see?”
He felt the indentations more than saw them. “Can you hold the light, so I can do a rubbing?”
“Yes.” She traded him the light for a piece of tracing paper and a pencil.
A few minutes later, he’d traced a daisy wheel with other markings around the edges.
Allison held it up to the light.
“What are you doing here?” a male voice said from behind them.
Zack turned and saw a man in the doorway holding a gun against his thigh.
Allison shoved the paper into her tote bag. “Put away the gun, Fenwick.”
This was her uncle/stepfather, Fenwick?
The man had blond hair cut in a military style. He wore a sleeveless white T-shirt, black combat pants, and boots. But the thing that concerned Zack the most was that Fenwick had fixed his gaze—and aim—on Allison.
Zack moved until Allison stood behind him. “We’re leaving now.”
Fenwick used his gun to wave them outside. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 28
Isabel entered Vivienne’s sitting room on the second floor of the mansion and waited for the maid to announce her. So far there’d been no word from Clayborne. Supposedly he was still tracking down the appendix.
Vivienne stood in front of a full-length window and studied a French desk from the Napoleonic period. “I’m not sure, Maddie.”
Maddie moved the desk so it faced the garden instead of the room’s interior. “If you don’t like it, I can find something else for this space.”
Vivienne walked around the furniture. Today she wore her silver hair in a braided coronet, as well as a blue linen sheath and matching Louboutins. Diamond earrings enhanced her patrician jawline.
Isabel had to admit the older woman was aging beautifully.
“Miss Rutledge has arrived,” the maid said. “Would you like me to serve tea?”
Vivienne waved a hand. “We’ll take tea in the drawing room.”
“As you wish, ma’am.” The maid left.
Maddie adjusted the desk away from direct sunlight. The room, with many windows overlooking the water gardens the mansion was known for, was one of Isabel’s favorite. Filled with sunlight, eighteenth-century antiques, and a fireplace one could walk into, the room was elegant and cozy.
The kind of home Isabel hoped to have one day. She forced a smile. “I didn’t know you were redecorating.”
“Just freshening up the house.” Vivienne nodded to Maddie. “I love the desk. But now I need a chair to go with it.”
“I have one on order.” Maddie picked up he
r phone and texted. “My sister found it in Paris. It’ll be here next week. Although”—she paused in her texting and winked at Vivienne—“you may have to fight Pastor Tom for it.”
Vivienne winked back. “I have no doubt I’d win.”
Isabel wrinkled her nose. “What would a pastor need with fine furnishings?”
Maddie sent Isabel a frustrated glance. “Just because he’s a man of God doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate fine things. He is, after all, a member of the Charleston Architectural Board with me and Stuart.”
Maddie’s voice hitched on Stuart’s name, and she turned away until Vivienne touched Maddie’s arm.
“I know you were friends,” Vivienne said to Maddie. “I’m so sorry.”
Sick of Maddie’s exaggerated grief, Isabel moved to trace her finger over the wood inlays. “Vivienne? Why all the fuss for a house you rarely visit?”
Vivienne glared at Isabel until she lifted her finger. “My next salon will be in Charleston in a few weeks. I’m also hosting the governor’s birthday party.”
“Hmm.” Isabel sat in one of the yellow chintz arm chairs. “I RSVP’d for that event. Are you going, Maddie?”
Maddie glanced at Isabel, and there was no denying the chill in the air didn’t just come from the AC. Maddie’s glare could freeze oil. “I haven’t decided.”
“You should come, Maddie.” Vivienne opened and closed the desk drawers one at a time. “It’ll be good for you.”
“I have Susan.” Maddie checked her watch. “She should’ve returned by now.”
“She’s outside with a butterfly net.” Vivienne moved to the window. “My garden needs a child’s laughter.”
Maddie stood next to Vivienne. “I hope Susan is laughing.”
Vivienne put a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “Susan will come out stronger for all of this. No girl needs a weak man for a father. The stronger and more secure the father is in his masculinity, the more confident and powerful the girl becomes in her femininity.”
Isabel crossed one leg over the other. “You are the expert in male-female relations.”
“Yes.” Vivienne gave Isabel a backward glance. “I am.”
Seeing how close Maddie and Vivienne appeared sent a rush of heat through Isabel. Why was she always on the outside? “It might be better if you don’t go, Maddie. Your husband is bringing his girlfriend.”
Maddie kept her gaze on the garden below. “He can bring whoever he wants. Our divorce should be final by then.”
“Look at you, all emancipated.”
“Isabel.” Vivienne turned, her sharp voice cutting through the room’s chilled air. “I assume you came for a reason?”
“Yes.” Isabel stood, took a deep breath, and put on her brightest smile. She couldn’t let petty emotions get in the way of her plans again.
“Excuse me, Vivienne,” Maddie said. “I’ll meet you downstairs for tea. I want to check on Susan.”
Once Maddie left, Vivienne said, “I don’t appreciate rudeness.”
Isabel clasped her hands in front of her. “Forgive me. I speak my mind and forget that not all women—or men—can handle that.”
Vivienne came up so close Isabel could smell her bergamot-tinged perfume. “As one strong woman speaking to another, I’m reminding you that humility and grace are the true source of attractiveness between the sexes. Regardless of how hard one likes to fuck.”
Isabel nodded. She’d allowed her temper to take over and that wasn’t going to get anything accomplished. “I came to tell you something about your godson.”
“Zachariah?” Vivienne led the way downstairs to the drawing room, where the maid had laid out the table with a silver tea service, original blue willow teacups and saucers, sandwiches, and scones. “I wasn’t aware you knew each other.”
“We don’t. Not directly.”
Vivienne poured tea for both of them and sat in a Louis XVI chair covered in brown silk decorated with white embroidered flowers. She crossed her legs and pointed to a chair across from her instead of next to her. Upstairs, Vivienne had been annoyed. Downstairs she was guarded. “What do you need to say?”
When Isabel was seated, she stirred the spoon in her teacup. “I’m worried about Zack. He’s becoming attached to Allison Pinckney.”
“I don’t understand.” Vivienne sipped her tea. “What business is that of yours?”
“I feel guilty—”
“You should. You carried on an affair with a married man.”
Criticism from a woman who made her living off other peoples’ affairs? “Since Stuart’s death, I understand how much pain I’ve caused Allison. I believe she’s become less stable.”
“Hmmm.” Vivienne watched Isabel with those eyes that judged everything.
“To your comment earlier about humility and grace.” Isabel placed her cup and saucer on a nearby table. “I’m trying to mitigate the damage I’ve done. I know I’ve hurt Allison—”
“Do you?” Vivienne tilted her head, and the sunlight hit her diamond earrings, sending prisms around the room.
“Yes.” Isabel stood and moved toward the window overlooking the water garden. A tall bronze statue of Hermes appeared to be running away. Off to the side, Maddie sat on a bench with Susan, who was holding purple violets. “The other day Allison and her mother argued at Pirate House. Allison yelled at Rue in public.”
“Rue needs a good yelling at.”
“Vivienne.” Isabel came back to her seat. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Zack to get involved with Allison. She’s unhappy—”
“With good reason.”
“She’s depressed.” Isabel touched Vivienne’s arm. “We’re friends, and I don’t want to see Zack, or any of the people you care for, get hurt.”
Vivienne removed Isabel’s hand. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be working for Remiel Marigny.”
Isabel straightened her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
Vivienne poured herself another cup of tea. “I’m not stupid, Isabel. You believe I don’t see what’s going on, who you work for, the men you fuck”—she took a sip—“Hezekiah’s death.”
Isabel swallowed hard.
Vivienne placed her cup on the silver tray and stood. “I’ve known for years that you work for Remiel. I also know how dangerous he is and that his power is only growing.”
“I’m not sure—”
Vivienne held up a hand. “Remiel, for some reason, has gone after my godson’s Special Forces unit. Now, I admit I don’t know much since it’s classified, but I do know that whatever Remiel has in play won’t stop until he either wins or is defeated.”
“Miss Vivienne!” Susan ran into the room holding a butterfly net and wilted flowers and threw herself into Vivienne’s arms. “I saw a leprechaun!”
Vivienne kissed Susan on the cheek. “Leprechauns love my koi pond.”
Maddie followed, pausing when she saw Isabel. “You’re still here?”
Isabel picked up her handbag and stood. “I’m leaving. I’m seeing an old friend.” As she passed Maddie, she whispered, “Actually, I’m seeing an old lover.”
Maddie gave her a tight smile. “How nice for you.”
Isabel glanced at Vivienne, who was now pouring tea for Susan. “He’s recently been released from prison so”—Isabel offered a secret smile—“I’m seeing to his needs.”
Maddie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care.”
“Oh.” Isabel licked her lips. “I shouldn’t tell Alex you said hi?”
Maddie’s eyes darkened, and Isabel heard a sharp intake of breath.
Smiling, Isabel went over to Vivienne and bent down to whisper in the older woman’s ear, “The Fianna have Emilie. They’re using her as leverage in a game against Remiel.”
Isabel smiled when Vivienne’s face paled and the hand holding her t
eacup shook.
Susan took Vivienne’s arm and said, “Is everything okay, Miss Vivienne?”
Before Isabel could hear the answer, she left the room. As she headed out the front door into the garden and past the spray fountain, she dialed Clayborne.
He answered on the first ring. “I can’t find the appendix. Horatio is a ghost. My man is still with the Fianna. And our diggers have dug up nothing but bones.”
Dammit. “You may have been right about Allison and her soldier. They’re closer than I thought. That makes them a larger threat.”
“What do you want to do about it?”
“While you keep looking for Horatio, check out Pastor Tom at Saint Philip’s Church. Apparently, the pastor and Stuart were friends. Maybe he’ll know something we don’t. In the meantime, I’m going to make a call. I think it’s time that secret congressional committee knows what Kells’s men are doing in Charleston.”
* * *
Alex folded the tracing paper and shoved it in his back pocket. He’d gotten the apotropaic tracing from Saint Philip’s and was walking toward the Charleston Architectural Board building.
The church had been surprisingly deserted. He’d had no trouble getting into the choir loft and taking the rubbings. He wiped his forehead, not sure whether he hated the heat or humidity more. He also had another chore to deal with and decided that calling sooner rather than later was a better plan.
He paused in the shade of a pink crepe myrtle tree and called Nate.
Nate answered on the first ring. “Tell me you’re on your way back here.”
“Nope. Does Kells know what’s going on?”
“Not yet.” Nate sighed like a preschooler. “Now he thinks the two of you spent all night cleaning the locker room. Luckily, Kells is distracted by issues with our men in Leedsville prison. I feel awful for saying this, but I’m grateful for prison fights.”
Alex unloaded everything that had happened including meeting Aidan, seeing Emilie, and everything he knew about the apotropaic marks. The only thing he left out was the part about Horatio blaming Kells for this clusterfuck. No reason to dig through that worm can.