Enright Family Collection (47 page)

And how to convince Corri that there was no ghost?

Tomorrow
, she told herself as she tip-toed from the room,
I’ll talk to Aunt August and see if she has any thoughts on how to deal with the situation.

But when India awoke the next day, her aunt had already left the house to run errands, and the ghost was forgotten for a while.

“Corri seemed to really enjoy staying at my mom’s,”
Nick told India when he came in through the back door later that afternoon. Not trusting the school bus to get Corri home safely, he had insisted on picking her up himself after school. “She got to ride the ponies.”

“All of them.” India nodded. “Did she tell you?”

“So that none of them would have hurt feelings.”

“It boggles my mind that Maris Steele could have given birth to a child who is so sensitive to the feelings of others. Even if those others are ponies.”

“Well, I’d say that this time the apple fell far from the tree. You hate to say it of anyone, Indy, but Corri is better off without her mother in her life. A woman who schemes, steals…”

“And yet Corri misses her so much she even thinks she sees her.” India thought back to the bedtime conversation of the previous evening.

“What do you mean, she thinks she sees her?” Nick frowned.

“Corri thinks she sees Maris’s ghost. She is adamant about it. She told me last night that the best thing about being at your mother’s was that the ghost couldn’t find her.”

“That doesn’t sound like a child who misses her mother. That sounds more like a child who is
relieved.”

“I don’t think it’s a simple thing, Nick. From all accounts, all of Corri’s memories of Maris may not be good ones, but the fact remains that she was still her mother, and I’m sure that Corri loved her all the same.”

“Maybe we should talk to her, help her to understand that there are no ghosts.”

“I tried to do that. She insists she sees her.”

“Look, I have an idea.” Nick pulled India onto his lap. “Why don’t we take Corri out to the cemetery and show her Maris’s grave again. We’ll explain to her that that is where her mother’s body is buried, and that once you are dead and buried, you can’t—Indy, what’s that look for?”

“That’s not exactly Maris’s grave.” India squirmed uncomfortably.

“Indy, she’s either buried there or she’s not.”

“She’s not.”

“She’s not?” he repeated. “Then who is?”

“No one. Maris’s body was never recovered. Ry erected that marker as a memorial, for Corri’s sake.”

They looked at each other for a very long, hard minute.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s too bizarre,” India whispered. “Do you think Maris could be… I mean, why would she pretend to be… If she really wasn’t…”

“Maybe she faked the whole thing.”

“Why? Why would she do that?”

“Probably for the same reason she pushed Ry down the lighthouse steps. Which would have been the same reason she tried to kill you last week. But she’s not going to get you, Indy.” Nick’s jaw squared. “She’ll have to get through me first. And I’m not budging.”

“It has to be money.” India began to pace. “I
knew
she never loved him. It was never in her eyes. She married him for money. She killed him for
money.”

“Lucien Byers,” Nick said softly. “My mother said that her private investigator—who is former secret service with major league connections—can’t find a lead on any of the people who were supposedly at the settlement where Maris sold this parcel of land to Byers.” Nick frowned. “What if
none
of these other people ever existed? What if it was all a scam?”

“You mean Maris didn’t sell land to Lucien? That he made it all up?” India crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the arm of the sofa. “Why would he have pretended to have bought land from Maris? Why would he have come here at all? It doesn’t make any sense, Nick.”

“Supposing there was something that he wanted, something he could only get from Ry, and he used Maris to get it…”

“Then Maris got what they wanted, then pretended to drown?” India frowned. “If she had what she wanted, why go to the trouble of faking her own death? Why didn’t she just divorce Ry?”

“And why did she come back and kill him? And why would she come back now?” Nick’s eyebrows knitted together.

“And why would Byers come here and tell me he’d bought land he hadn’t bought?”

“I think I’d like to talk to Mother’s detective. Now’s a good time for a more thorough background check on Lucien Byers. And after that, I think we need to call Chief Carpenter and let him in on what we’re thinking.”

“Do you think we should tell Aunt August?” India stood in the middle of the room, her fisted hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.

Nick rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering. “Not yet. I think we need to get all the facts and discuss it with the chief first.”

“I will gladly, happily kill Maris with my bare hands.” India’s eyes glowed at the very thought of it.

“First we have to find her,” Nick reminded her, “and that may be the hard part. Don’t forget, Indy, if she is really still alive, she has managed to avoid being seen for two and a half years.”

“Except by Corri.”

“Corri only saw Maris because Maris wanted her to.” India repeated the comment to Chief Carpenter later, down at the police station.

“Then maybe we need for Maris to want Corri to see her again,” the chief suggested.

“No way.” India shook her head curtly. “You are not going to use her as bait. We believe that this woman killed my brother, that she almost killed Darla. I don’t want her near Corri, not ever again.”

“Then we’ll have to figure out some other way to smoke her out.” Carpenter tapped his pen on the top of his desk.

“She wants something. She’s impatient enough now to get it that she tried to kill a second time,” Nick said. “She’ll come out of the woodwork on her own. And I don’t think we’ll have to wait all that long before she does.”

“I hope you’re right, Nick.” India stood up, filled with impatience of her own.

“India, I want to warn you not to do anything you’ll regret,” the chief told her sternly.

“Don’t worry,” she told him as she opened the door to leave. “If I find her before you do, I won’t be the least bit sorry.”

Chapter 29

“What are you thinking? Nick asked, watching India’s face change expression as she pored over the front page of the newspaper. “Your face has taken on a very serious look, but you have a sort of gleam in your eye.”

“Hmmm?” She glanced up. “Oh. I was just reading about this case that the county D.A. is trying next week.”

“And…” He gestured for her to continue.

“And”—she grinned—“I was thinking about how I would handle a case like this.”

“What is it?”

“Two nine-year-olds have accused their basketball coach of sexually abusing them. The coach is a pillar of the community. Well known. Well regarded.”

“And the kids?”

“Both from the low end of the economic spectrum. The parents of one of the boys weren’t even going to pursue it.” She spoke thoughtfully, as if from another place.

“Why not?”

“Because they know that the coach will have the best lawyer money can buy representing him. Which he does.” She tapped the paper. “Howard Branneman.”

“You know him?”

“Our paths have crossed.” She grinned. “Very similar paths, I might add, to this very scenario.”

“Who won?”

“Let’s just say that Mr. Branneman has made it known he’d like a second shot at
me.”
India laughed.

“You won the first round?”

“Twenty-five years without parole.” She nodded. “That’s what his client got.”

“Twenty-five years,” Nick repeated. “It could have been worse.”

“His client will be eighty-seven years old by the time he’s released. If he lives that long,” she said dryly.

“Why don’t you give Branneman what he wants?” Nick tossed the paper back to her.

“What’s that?”

“Another shot at India Devlin.”

“The case is being tried here, in the county … Oh, I get it.” She nodded. “You’re trying to say that if I went to work for the county, I could take on Branneman again.” She shook her head. “I’m sure the case has been assigned already. It would be a good one to try, though.”

She rested her chin in her upraised palm and stared out the window.

Behind her, Nick grinned. This time there had been no protests about Paloma and being needed there, no mention of the work she’d left behind. It was, he thought, a very good sign.

Five feet away, the phone began to ring. He was whistling when he went to answer it.

“India, it’s August.” He handed her the receiver.

“Hi. Oh? How long ago did she call?” India bit her bottom lip. “Really? I’ll call her right back. Is she at the office? Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

She hung up the receiver but kept her hand on it, asking Nick, “Do you mind if I call my office?”

My
office. Still. So much for reading the signs.

“Go on,” he told her, and he turned away, trying to ignore the light in her eyes.

“Roxie … hi. My aunt said you called … what’s up?” She leaned against the wall, her eyes focused on the bay outside the kitchen window. “I thought that case wasn’t on the calendar till the spring. Yes, I remember it well. Did you find my notes?”

India began to pace back and forth, slowly, deliberately, as he had seen her do in court. The phone was propped on her right shoulder.

“I’m sure they’re in the file, Roxie. … I put them there myself.” India frowned. “I probably have them on a disk somewhere. Check the computer in my office and… Are you serious? What fool would have erased all my files?” Her foot tapped out her agitation. “I know I have a copy of the disk, probably in the box of things that’s been sitting on my dining-room table for the past six weeks. How soon do you need the information?”

India sighed. “I’ll drive up tomorrow. We can have lunch and you can bring me up to date on ‘All My Children.’”

She hung up the phone and turned to see Nick watching her.

“I didn’t know you watched soap operas,” he said.

“What? Oh. That’s how I refer to my caseload,” she told him. “’All My Children.’”

He nodded. Suddenly it was
her
caseload again.

“I don’t think this is a good time for you to take off for Paloma. Not with a killer on your heels.”

“Maris won’t even know I’m gone. And I’ll only be in Paloma for one day.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” She nodded. “I’m going to go to my house, I’ll get the disk, I’ll go to the office and have lunch with Roxie.”

“I think I want to go with you.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I don’t think you should go anywhere alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Would it make you feel better if I called Paloma’s finest and asked someone to meet me at the townhouse?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Nick, it’s unnecessary.”

“Humor me.”

She shrugged and picked up the phone. “Yes, I’d like to speak with Detective Brown, please. … Yes, it’s India Devlin. Yes. I’m fine, thank you. Yes, I’ll hold.”

“Done,” she said when she had hung up the phone. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” he said, though he didn’t look very happy at all.

It was too soon for her to go back, he thought as he looked out over the water.

It wasn’t out of her system yet. She would sit down and spread that file out and that would be the end of her staying in Devlin’s Light.

He watched her toss bread crumbs off the deck to the ducks and wondered if he had already lost her.

“I’ll be a little later than I thought,” India was telling him at one o’clock the following afternoon.

“What’s the problem?” Nick felt the little trickle of apprehension bite at the back of his neck.

“No problem. But my boss asked me to stop in around four.”

“So he can make a pitch for you to come back?”

“Probably. And I figured as long as I’m here, I might as well have dinner with the gang.”

“India, I don’t think you should do that. I think you should be home before it gets dark.”

“Excuse me?” she said quietly.

He could
hear
her eyebrows rising all the way to the top of her forehead.

“India, you seem to forget that there’s a killer after you.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, Nick. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to hide in that house on Darien Road until Maris comes looking for me.”

“Just the same, I think you should be home.”

“Nick, stop it. You’re not my parent.”

“What am I, India?”

“You’re the love of my life, Nicky.” She sighed. “I’ll be home when I’m finished here, and I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be at the house when you get back.”

“Look, it might be late. Why don’t you ask Aunt August to let you sleep in Ry’s old room?”

“I’d rather sleep in your room.”

“We’ll see what we can work out. Look, I have to go. Roxie’s waiting for me. I’ll see you later.”

It was much later—almost midnight—when India pulled into the drive. She parked the car closer to the house than she normally did and looked around for the police officer who was supposed to be watching the house. In the shadow
of the back porch, she saw Taylor and waved to him. She felt reassured, knowing that he had been waiting for her, that he watched her as she unlocked the door and slipped quietly into the kitchen.

“India?”

Her name, whispered, hung in the air.

“Where are you, Nick?”

“In the sitting room.”

He was alone in the dark; she could not see his face and so did not see the look of total relief that she had come back, that no harm had befallen her. He opened his arms and she slid into them.

“You were worried,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I told you I’d be fine,” she reminded him.

“I guess I was afraid…”

“Don’t be.” She placed a finger against his lips to silence him. “When did everyone else go to bed?”

“Around ten.”