Garner (Gypsy Magic Book 2)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  The trailer was about the size of a food vendor’s, the office crammed with a battered desk, mismatched file cabinets, and a large safe for the night’s receipts. Everything Milo needed to keep the carnival running smoothly. A cellular phone perched on the corner of his cluttered desk. Milo had a policy of never allowing the phone to leave the office, for fear it would be lost.

  Sabina grabbed it and held it to her ear. “Alessandra?”

  “Sabina? Thank God they found you. Are you all right?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” Her throat tightened at the fear in her sister’s voice. Fear almost palpable even over the phone. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been having feelings. Bad feelings. About you. About Valonia. Something horrible is going to happen.”

  “Something? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But you’re all right?”

  “I had some trouble, but I’m fine.” There was no point telling Alessandra the details of the attack. It was over. Garner had saved her. She was all right. And besides, chances were, Alessandra had already seen the details in a vision. Or at least some of them. “You mentioned Valonia. What did you see?”

  “I saw a letter in Valonia’s hand.”

  “A letter? What kind of letter?”

  “I don’t know. But I feel Valonia is in great danger. You have to find her. And, Sabina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will. And you’d better stay where you are.”

  “Don’t worry. Wyatt would tie me down before he’d let me walk out the door now.”

  “Good. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” Sabina punched the button to end the connection and dropped the phone on the desk.

  “What is it?” Garner searched her face.

  Sabina grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door, skirting a file cabinet on her way. “I have to find my aunt.”

  They stepped into the noisy bustle of the midway.

  “I saw her when I was looking for you.” Garner had to shout to be heard. “She’s in the fortune-telling tent.”

  “Of course. She’s filling in for Alessandra.” Sabina cut across the midway, the fastest route from the office to Alessandra’s tent. Once again she raced through the crowds, this time around the swirling lights of the Tilt-a-Whirl, Garner on her heels.

  The fortune-telling tent was dark inside. Quiet. As if it was deserted.

  Sabina bit her bottom lip. Reaching the tent’s entrance, she threw open the flap and rushed inside. Hands shaking, she groped for matches to light one of the dozens of candles Alessandra used to lend light and atmosphere. Her fingers finally closed over the walnut matchbox. She forced her hands to be steady as she opened the box and struck a match.

  The flame sputtered, then glowed. She touched it to the wicks of several candles lining one table. Flickering light suffused the tent, illuminating stacks of silk pillows and gossamer draperies. One table was tipped over, its velvet cloth and candles scattered on the floor. And amid the jumble lay Valonia, her bony fingers clutching a letter.

  Chapter Five

  “No, no, no…” Anguish and fear tore through Sabina. Her head spun. Her stomach heaved. She fell to her knees and stared at Valonia’s still body.

  There was a gash across her wrinkled brow. The upset table lay near her head, blood on the metal edge, no doubt the spot where her aunt’s head must have hit.

  Garner stepped past Sabina and knelt close to Valonia. He laid his fingers along her neck, feeling for a pulse. Glancing back to Sabina, he shook his head.

  A wail erupted from Sabina’s lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to breathe. She didn’t need Garner to say the words. They had already ricocheted through her mind and pierced her heart.

  Valonia was dead. Sabina couldn’t save her. She was too late.

  “What the hell’s going on? Why were you racing across the midway?”

  Sabina turned in the direction of the familiar voice.

  Tall and strapping, her cousin Andrei stood in the tent’s entrance, his face furrowed with concern, his eyes bright with alarm. He focused on Valonia.

  Sabina swallowed a sob. She was glad Andrei was here. Though Valonia wasn’t related to him by blood, he was part of her carnival family. And except for the time his mother sent him away to school, Andrei had always watched out for his younger cousins. Sabina drew a deep breath and forced her gaze back to Valonia’s body.

  Andrei rushed to Sabina’s side. “Can’t you do something, Sabina? Can’t you help her?”

  Sabina shook her head. “She’s already dead.”

  Shock faded from his face and anger took its place. “Who did it?”

  He zeroed in on Garner.

  Sabina shook her head. “We just found her. It was probably the same man who just attacked me. Maybe even the same one who attacked Wyatt and torched Alessandra’s trailer.”

  “Sweet God.” Milo Vasilli pushed the tent flaps aside and stepped into the tent. Face pale, he took in Valonia’s body and the wreckage strewn across the floor of the tent. He held the coin he usually flipped in his fingers tightly in his fist. “What has happened here? Burglary?”

  “I doubt it,” Garner’s voice sounded behind Sabina, strong and sure.

  Suddenly she had the urge to lean against him the way she had in her trailer after the attack. Lean against him and soak in the strength he seemed to give her so she could face what she needed to face.

  Milo ventured farther into the tent, but stopped before he reached Valonia. In Gypsy culture the dead were not to be touched. Their belongings were to be burned or sold off, lest their spirits taint those who came in contact with them. Like Sabina and Andrei, Milo wouldn’t go near Valonia’s body. Not if he could help it. “I will call the gadje police. They will take care of her.”

  Sabina gave him a grateful smile through the tears she could feel winding down her cheeks. “Thank you, Milo.”

  He nodded and scurried from the tent.

  Sabina looked back down at her aunt. A wail of grief rose in her throat. She choked it back. She couldn’t give in to the sorrow. Not right now. Later she could cry. Later she could mourn. Now she had to concentrate. She had to think.

  Through her tears, she focused on the blur of yellowed paper, the envelope still clutched in Valonia’s hand. The letter Alessandra had seen in her vision.

  Doing her best to dash the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand, Sabina leaned closer. An elegant script she didn’t recognize graced the front of the envelope. A name.

  Carlo.

  Her heart went still.

  Garner followed her gaze to the letter. His brows rose in question.

  “Alessandra saw a letter in my aunt’s hand in a vision tonight. It’s addressed to Carlo.”

  “Open it,” Andrei urged.

  Garner removed the letter from Valonia’s hand.

  Sabina bent over him, Andrei behind her.

  Holding it only by the edges, he untucked the envelope’s flap and slid out a piece of yellowed paper. Carefully, he unfolded it and held it so Sabina could read it. Fear pulsed off the handwritten page.

  Dearest Carlo—

  My husband Richard has found out about us. He’s very angry and I fear he’s going to do something terrible. Meet me at our place under the spreading oak. Be careful.

  No matter what happens, I will always love you.

  Theresa.

  “The spreading oak,” Sabina murmured. “That huge live oak on the edge of the swamp. That’s where Theresa Granville’s body was found ten years ago. That’s where she was murdered.”

  Her excitement mounted. Could this letter be the evidence she was looking for? Evidence that pointed to Theresa’s real murderer? Evidence that exonerated her cousin Carlo?

  She looked back down at the fluid script. “‘My husband Richard has found out about us,’” she read aloud, “‘He’s very angry.’ If Richard Granville knew about the affair Theresa was having with Ca
rlo, and he knew where she was meeting him, he might have gone there to confront her. Richard Granville might have killed his wife.”

  Garner folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. “No wonder my father and now Leon want to keep this under wraps. Richard Granville was a big supporter of my father when he was mayor of Les Baux. And now that he’s a state senator, he’s an even stronger political ally for Leon.”

  Behind Garner, Andrei’s face glowed unnaturally pale in the flickering candlelight.

  Sabina looked back to the letter in Garner’s hand, the letter that might help her prove Carlo’s innocence. The letter that Valonia must have been trying to protect when she died. “So what do we do now? We can’t just turn the letter over to the police. What if they cover it up, just like they covered up the bloody fingerprint on Theresa’s brooch?”

  “Take it,” Andrei said, his voice tight. “Take it before the cops get here.”

  “That would be withholding evidence in a murder investigation.” Garner’s voice was deadly serious.

  “Would it be better to let the gadje destroy it?” A flush of anger replaced the pallor in Andrei’s cheeks. “Would it be better to let them continue to railroad an innocent Gypsy? Let them kill him for a crime he didn’t commit?”

  Sabina took the letter from Garner’s fingers and wrapped it in one of Alessandra’s red silk scarves before sliding it into the waistband of her skirt. Her eyes met Garner’s. She was about to break the law, the law that he upheld, the law that he practiced every day. Her mouth grew dry as bone.

  For a long moment he said nothing, the conflict within him furrowing his brow. Finally he nodded, the movement of his head so slight she couldn’t be sure if it was really a movement or just a trick of the flickering candlelight.

  “We’ll make copies and give one to Leon,” Garner finally said. “Maybe this will be enough to convince him he can no longer hide what my father did. Nor can he protect Richard Granville.”

  Andrei watched Garner, scrutinizing his eyes and the hand that touched Sabina’s arm. “Can you get Sabina out of here? Can you make sure she’s safe?”

  Garner nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then go. Both of you. I’ll take care of the gadje police.”

  ______

  After making photocopies of the letter, as well as of the photo of the bloody fingerprint, Garner drove Sabina to his father’s home.

  Now, perched on a packing box in the middle of the kitchen floor, Sabina slipped the six sets of photocopies into six separate envelopes while Garner called Leon Thibault on the phone. Her hands were still shaking, making stuffing the envelopes a challenge. And wherever she looked in the nearly empty kitchen, all she could see was Valonia’s lifeless face.

  Sabina still couldn’t believe her aunt was dead. Sabina would miss her terribly. But the worst thing was the knowledge that Valonia would never see Carlo a free man. She would never know that the letter she had found—the one she must have been trying to protect when she died—had helped free her son.

  At least Sabina hoped the letter would help free Carlo. Judging from the frustrated pitch of Garner’s voice coming from his father’s office, Leon was being less than cooperative.

  She focused on sealing the last envelope. Garner hadn’t told her whom he planned to give the envelopes to, besides Thibault, but she had no doubt Garner had a plan. And that it would work.

  He had a way of making her believe everything would work out in the end. Just as being around him made her feel strong and sure of herself, as if she could do anything. As if she was in control of her destiny. As if she could reach out and take anything she wanted. It was a confidence that—growing up as a Gypsy, an outsider—she had never felt before.

  Sabina bit her lower lip and set the envelopes on the counter. The only problem was that the more she was around Garner and experienced this feeling he’d planted in her, the more she wanted him. Wanted to sleep in his arms and wake to his kisses. Wanted to laugh with him and share with him and love with him. And not just for tonight, not just for a week or a year, but for always. She wanted to heal his injured heart so he could love again.

  So he could love her.

  The door to Garner’s father’s office slammed shut, and Garner’s footsteps thunked across the wood floor toward the kitchen. She pivoted to face him as he entered.

  His jaw was set at a stubborn angle, and his eyes still burned with anger from the argument she’d overheard.

  Sabina braced herself. “What happened? Did he refuse to meet with us?”

  “He’ll meet with us at the carnival early tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow? Why not tonight?”

  Garner grimaced, lines digging into his forehead and bracketing his mouth. “Because he’s busy interrogating your cousin Andrei about your aunt’s death. And after I reported the attack on you, he jumped at the opportunity to heap that accusation on Andrei, too.”

  “Andrei? But he didn’t have anything to do with any of it.”

  “That’s what I told Leon. But I think he’s more set on following in my father’s footsteps and looking for a convenient scapegoat than finding the real murderer. Especially if that murderer could be Richard Granville.”

  Sabina walked over to Garner on shaky legs. The thought of Andrei being questioned about Valonia’s murder as if he was a suspect made her stomach roil. Andrei, her older, handsome cousin, a man with charm to burn, a man she’d looked up to her entire life.

  “They can’t do this. We have to go down there. We have to tell them. We have to get my cousin out of there.”

  Garner held up a hand to stop her before she could race for the door. “I called the attorney who’s working with you on Carlo’s case. He’s on his way to the police station now. They have no sound legal reason to hold Andrei. He’ll be out of that interrogation room within the hour.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sometimes the law is the law. Even in Les Baux.”

  She laid her hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. The rush of power shot through her. It was as if she fed off the look in his eyes. Fed off the way he saw her. “Thank you. Thank you for doing all this. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  The corners of Garner’s mouth quirked up, his smile as warm as the Louisiana night. “You would find another way to save your cousin. You wouldn’t give up until you did.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You would, Sabina. Because you’re not a person who gives up. You’re a person who needs to help others. And you’re strong. Strong enough to overcome any obstacle in your path.”

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the strength came from within her. But she had a sneaking suspicion that he was the real source. She dropped her gaze to the floor and began to shake her head.

  Placing his fingers under her chin, he tilted her face back up to look at him. “You are, Sabina. Trust me.”

  Gazing into his eyes, she could almost believe him. “My sister Alessandra is strong. My aunt was strong. I’ve never thought of myself as strong.”

  “What on earth would make you believe you’re not?”

  Sabina had good reason to believe she wasn’t strong. And she didn’t talk about it. Not ever. But here with Garner the humiliation, the stifling dependence, the horrible loneliness lost its sting and faded into the past.

  “I was married when I was very young.”

  “How young?”

  “Not yet fifteen.”

  Garner’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline.

  “It’s not unusual in Gypsy culture. I knew the boy. I liked him. He liked me and needed a wife. And my parents arranged the marriage.”

  Lines of concern etched Garner’s brow, but he said nothing. He just waited for her to continue.

  “His family were very traditional Romany—or as you call us, Gypsies. When I married, I assumed the role of a traditional Rom wife. I probably could have been happy if we’d had children. I’ve always loved childr
en. But although there didn’t seem to be a physical problem, I never got pregnant. It just wasn’t to be.”

  “Is that why you’re no longer married? Because you didn’t have children?”

  She shook her head. “When Josephe—Joe’s father died, I found out Joe had followed the traditions only because his father insisted. Joe wanted the opportunities the gadje world could give him. He no longer wanted to follow Rom ways. And he no longer wanted a Rom wife. I tried to please him by changing, but it was not enough….”

  Garner’s lips pressed together in a bitter line. “So the bastard ran out on you.”

  Sabina shrugged. Joe’s leaving had been humiliating. Devastating. But somehow it didn’t seem that important anymore. Not when she was standing here with Garner. Not with Garner looking at her this way.

  “I was fitting myself into the mold of a Rom wife one moment, and the next moment the mold was gone. I guess I’ve been trying to figure out who I am ever since. If it weren’t for Alessandra and my aunt taking me back to the carnival and encouraging me to explore my gifts, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “Your gifts. I know you read auras. You have other gifts?”

  A shiver of nervousness inched up her spine. Sabina had never talked of this with anyone other than Alessandra, Valonia and Andrei, who all had gifts of their own. Not even Joe had known her power.

  Garner watched her, patiently waiting for her answer. Acceptance radiated from his aura. He wouldn’t judge her. He wouldn’t be afraid of her powers. He would take whatever she told him in stride.

  “I can heal.”

  His brows slashed low over his eyes. Not in judgment, but seeking to understand. “You mean with the charms you sell at the carnival?”

  “No. With my hands.” She held her hands out in front of her, palms up. “I can lay my hands on a wound, and if I concentrate hard enough, the wound becomes my own. The person I lay hands on is healed.”

  “The wound becomes your own?”

  “Yes. For a time. It isn’t a physical wound you can see, nothing quite so dramatic, but I can feel the pain.” She flinched inwardly remembering the pain she endured the last time she healed someone. A long time ago. “My body then heals the wound. Very quickly.”