Behind the Mask
Behind the Mask
Joanna Wayne
All She Could See Were His EyesThough Graham Dufour's ebony eyes lit up her dreams for the past ten years, Lindsey Latham hoped she could come back to New Orleans without seeing the man who'd once stolen her heart. A lot had changed between them–but one touch from the bad-boy-made-good could still ignite her desire.Then she rode in a Mardi Gras parade and saw someone else's eyes behind a mask. Those of a faceless killer who'd used the masquerade to hide his crime. And he'd seen Lindsey.Once, she'd been forced to run from Graham; now she had no choice but to run straight into his arms. For passion and for protection…
Behind the Mask
Joanna Wayne
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lindsey Latham—She was determined to put old memories behind her, but someone wasn’t letting her…
Graham Dufour—He wasn’t good enough for Lindsey ten years ago, but he’s the only one who can save her now.
Katie LeBlanc—Married to the wealthy owner of the Uptown mansion where the murder took place, she claims total innocence. But how much does she really know?
Thomas LeBlanc—Is he the dashingly handsome playboy he seems—or something far more sinister?
Ruby Oleander—The faithful housekeeper who has her own agenda.
Garon Oleander—Ruby’s youngest son. He keeps his secrets well.
Jerome Oleander—Ruby’s clever son, a man who plays by his own rules.
Contents
Chapter One (#uf086fc00-4880-5e85-b179-ab36fe2ee382)
Chapter Two (#u5f17e841-7082-5b57-b729-6e5911802002)
Chapter Three (#u63dde998-b645-558e-a638-84b01b86874d)
Chapter Four (#u3bb683fd-b331-58b7-82a6-bb4971afad1a)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Lindsey Latham lunged for the support rail as the jerky movements of the Mardi Gras float propelled her forward. She breathed deeply, determined to ward off a persistent bout of queasiness, and stared out into the never-ending sea of faces. They were all one now, a voluminous cloud of eyes and mouths floating in space. And hands. Thousands of hands, all waving wildly and begging for the baubles that glittered in the moonlight like precious jewels.
“Hey, lady, throw me something—for the baby!”
Lindsey adjusted her feathered mask for the umpteenth time and looked down at the demanding man, and at the small boy he lifted toward her like some heathen sacrifice. He was weaving dangerously close to the slow-moving float, throwing caution to the winds to get his share of the carnival bounty. But the child was adorable, no more than a toddler, grinning through lips coated with the sugary remains of cotton candy.
Lindsey reached into the box at her feet and took out a small stuffed alligator. The crowd around the man surged forward at the appearance of the cheap toy, all with hands outstretched, pleading for their chance at one of the prized throws. Prized, at least, for the duration of the parade.
She dropped it into the child’s chubby hands and then quickly threw a handful of doubloons to the crowd waiting patiently on the walk. She threw another one of the alligators, too, far into the crowd, to reward those who were heeding the safety warnings and staying clear of the unwieldy floats.
“I can’t believe this is your first time to ride on a Mardi Gras float, Lindsey. Don’t you just love it?” Brigit asked, her voice bubbly with excitement.
“It’s different,” Lindsey admitted. “The verdict is still out on the fun part.”
Lindsey watched as Brigit dangled a long strand of silvery beads, taunting the spectators so that they clamored around her, begging for the sparkling throw. She twirled the necklace in the air flippantly and then leaned over to drop it into the hands of an eager teenage girl.
“Wow, get a look at that!” Brigit yelled above the din of the crowd. “Just the guy I need to keep me warm at night.”
“Which guy? There’s only a few thousand out there,” Lindsey quipped good-naturedly.
“The hunk. Over there, in the LSU shirt.” She pointed with one hand and dug around in the overflowing box at her feet with the other. “I’ve got to throw him something good. Like my phone number,” she said teasingly as she caught his eye and tossed him a long string of imitation pearls.
He snagged them in his outstretched hands and blew her a kiss before adding them to the multitude already draped about the shoulders of the blonde who stood at his side.
“Glad you only threw the beads,” Angela offered, leaning over from her spot on the other side of Lindsey.
“Yeah,” Lindsey said, “I’d hate for you to waste a perfectly good phone number on a guy who probably has his own phone book.”
The procession of brightly lit and elaborately decorated floats made its way slowly down St. Charles Avenue as police on horseback tried in vain to keep the crowds pushed back. They were good citizens who’d never think of crossing an officer of the law at any other time, but carnival fever had hit. Fun was the supreme ruler from now until Fat Tuesday.
The float jerked and then came to an abrupt standstill. Lindsey clung to the side. “I hate these sudden stops,” she lamented. Even the most reserved parade viewers left their places on the walks and the neutral grounds that bordered the parade route to swarm around them. She backed away from the edge as the noisy crowd pushed closer, climbing atop friends’ and parents’ shoulders to shove hands and even faces into her space.
“Just relax, Lindsey. Have fun. This is the best part. The rough part comes later, when we hit Canal Street,” Angela said, the thrill of the night adding a lilt to her Uptown accent. She tossed a large supply of beads and doubloons into the street below them, clearly taking her own advice.
“Enjoy it. This is the best part,” Lindsey repeated to herself. She should be having a ball. The other seven girls on her float were.
But they were native New Orleanians, she reminded herself. Even in high school, they had been far more practiced at carnival revelry than she. Not that she hadn’t loved the Mardi Gras season. It was just that her tendency to order and organize had always made it a little more difficult for her to dissolve into a state of total chaos.
But here she was, back in New Orleans with her high school classmates, partying as if it hadn’t been ten years since they were young and eager seniors at Dominican High. She was here, and she had followed their urging, joining in all the Mardi Gras festivities. Parties, masked balls, coronations...
And the krewe’s big parade.
The float jerked forward, bucking like a nervous horse. The motion sickness Lindsey had been fighting all evening attacked again, this time with a vengeance. She held on to the sides of the float and silently ordered her stomach to cooperate.
She knew better than to ride in the parade. But saying no to this bunch of party animals had been about as useless as that last order she had given her stomach. Especially with Grace Ann resorting to her infamous pleading look. The one that had been known to topple powerful men like matchsticks.
Grace Ann had been one of her best friends in school. Sweet, pretty, incredibly rich and generous to a fault. And now she was Queen Grace Ann, of the Krewe of Minerva, a regal monarch who wasn’t willing to take no for an answer. What was the good of being queen, she had argued quite persuasively, if your friends wouldn’t help you celebrate?
So here she was, Lindsey mused, atop a tractor-pulled contraption of brightly painted papier-mâché figures, her costume slipping off her shoulders and her mask riding her nose like a loose saddle. And she was trying not to even think what her stomach was doing while the float snaked along at the pace of an aged snail.
Brigit leaned over the edge, dropping toys and decorated plastic cups to a group of youngsters who were all but climbing in with them. “Come on, get with it,” she told Lindsey playfully. “Your adoring public is begging for treats.”
Lindsey tossed a supply of beads into the crowd, high above the heads of those who swarmed around her. She tossed more toward a balcony full of gray-haired women hanging over the rails. Brigit was probably right about this being the best part of the route. Huge oaks and massive old homes lined the wide streets. And the crowd, though rowdy by her standards, was mostly families, out to enjoy a beautiful evening and all the excitement of Mardi Gras.
She reached for more beads, but the float jerked to a stop, sending her swaying against the rail.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Here? Now? You can’t be.” Brigit offered a reassuring pat. “But, if you must, aim for that tall guy with the stupid hat. He grabs everything I try to throw to anyone else,” she suggested, only half joking.
Lindsey smiled in spite of herself, although Brigit would never see her expression beneath the stiff masks all the float riders were forced to wear. “I’m serious. I may have to bail out. I could signal one of the policemen to get me a ride.”
“Sure, there are plenty of medical people around,” Danielle threw in, stepping from the back corner to join in the conversation, “although it’s usually the marchers that pass out, not the riders. But you’d miss all the fun.”
“But I don’t know how much more fun I can handle,” Lindsey countered. “The two hours of serious toasting before we even started rolling is a tad more than I’m used to.” She leaned back, resting her head against the float’s center frame. “I’ll try to make it a while longer, though,” she conceded. “Who knows? I might get the hang of this, if I last long enough.”
The band that marched in front of the float swung into a popular rock tune, and the fun-loving spectators broke into applause. The faces in the crowd were shifting now, moving and swaying to the music as the float inched forward. Lindsey stood between her two friends and strived to adopt their carefree manner. She stared into the night, trying to focus on eyes, mouths and noses that appeared and then disappeared, like Alice’s Cheshire cat. Now you see them, now you don’t.
She flung a multitude of colored beads into the distance. Patterns of purple, green and gold swirled magically through the night sky, falling like manna from heaven into the upstretched hands.
A beam of light caught Lindsey’s attention and held it. A tiny sliver of illumination in an otherwise darkened house. There were no people on this balcony, just a lit window in the middle of a rounded turret. The curved French window was pushed open, and the night breeze caught the wispy curtain, billowing it like a sail.
A couple danced into view. The girl was dressed in flowing velvet, her long blond hair encircling her face like an ethereal halo. The man held her close, and she rested her head on his broad shoulder.
They were dressed for the evening. She was the traditional Southern belle, he the dashing uniformed soldier. But they were obviously in no hurry to leave the privacy of home for a costume ball.
Young and in love. Lindsey remembered the feeling well. Too well. Especially here in this town, where it had all begun for her. Begun and ended. Squeezing her hands into fists, she smiled determinedly. She was here for fun, not to be tortured by old memories.
Mesmerized, she watched the young lovers, ignoring the chanting crowds around her. She sighed as he tipped his face toward the girl’s and slowly lowered his mouth to hers. Framed in the golden light, they were as clear as a motion picture, acting out their roles, celebrating carnival in their own intimate way.
He ran his hand along her arm, down to the sheath at his side. His lips never leaving hers, he pulled a shiny dagger from the sheath. He was a picture, all right, the brave young soldier, ready to protect his woman.
No, not to protect. Lindsey’s heart leaped to her throat. Oh, God! It couldn’t be!
She watched, a scream stuck in her throat, suffocated by the terror that washed over her, bringing with it bone-chilling paralysis. Watched as the dashing soldier raised the weapon high above his head and plunged it deep in his lover’s heart.
Lindsey blinked and shook her head to clear it of the warped confusion. The images couldn’t be what they seemed. A deception, a cruel joke, but not what they seemed.
Yet the woman was slumping to the floor, the green velvet pooling around her, drinking up the crimson river that flowed from her chest. The man turned, for an instant, for an eternity. Then his eyes bored into Lindsey’s. For a moment, they were as one—the cold, hard perpetrator and the silent witness.
Her body began to shake, spinning as the float jerked forward, but still she couldn’t scream. And she couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her face from the nightmare that had begun with a kiss.
Then, suddenly, the sliver of light went black. Lindsey fell forward, and her whole world was bathed in darkness.
Chapter Two
Detective Graham Dufour dragged himself into headquarters at half past two in the morning and poured himself a mug of old and mercifully strong coffee before plopping down in his swivel chair. He rubbed tired fingers across his brow and lifted the mug to his lips. No need to worry about caffeine overload tonight. As tired as he was, he’d drop off to sleep in two seconds flat. With luck, he could persuade his body to wait until he got home and into bed first.
Another one down, he reminded himself, with the smallest inkling of satisfaction. The first big weekend of this year’s Mardi Gras season was half-over, and there had been no major incidents reported. Now, if that record could just hold until the big day...
He picked up the computer printout of the night’s routine complaints. It was a bad habit of his. Minor infractions weren’t his responsibility anymore, not since he’d been promoted to homicide. Nothing but the big stuff for him, except during Mardi Gras, of course. For two weeks a year, everybody pulled a few extra duties. It was the only way the good old NOPD could stretch its manpower to safe levels.
Lack of sleep blurred the names as he skimmed the list. A few drunks arrested in the Quarter. Nothing serious, just tourists satisfying appetites they didn’t give in to at home. Several fights, a mugging on Esplanade, a parade watcher hit in the stomach with a cymbal. And some woman claiming she’d witnessed a murder.
Instinctively his mind jumped into working gear. Female on Minerva float, slightly inebriated, passed out and came to in Touro Infirmary mumbling something about seeing a murder.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. A few drinks and those rich society babes in the Minerva parade are liable to see anything,” he mumbled to nobody in particular.
Lindsey Latham.
The name jumped out at him like a striking snake. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain that settled in his gut. Old memories died hard. And some never quite made it to oblivion.
Lindsey Latham was one of those. The vivacious sweetheart of Dominican High. Daddy’s girl. She’d been the prime example of what brains, looks and money could produce. She’d had it all, including Graham’s young and impressionable heart. But what was the heart of a poor jock worth? Evidently nothing, judging from the way she’d dropped him when it was time to move on to greener pastures.
Graham reached for the mug and swallowed another gulp of the black coffee. The bitter taste was suddenly a good match for his mood. It was stupid to let a mere name from his past have such a devastating effect on his ego.
Besides, Lindsey hadn’t been back to New Orleans in ten years. No reason to think she’d returned now. No, the Lindsey Latham hallucinating at Touro was probably some party-loving young debutante, hell-bent on creating her own excitement.
“Are you still here? It’s almost 3:00 a.m. I thought you’d be home and in bed now, especially on a night as quiet as this one.”
Graham nodded at the young detective who had stuck his head in the open door. “I’m on my way. But if I had a sweet little thing on the string like you do, I would’ve been out of here long ago. In fact, if I’d known you weren’t taking care of her tonight, I might’ve been entertaining her myself,” Graham joked.
“You would’ve wasted your time trying. My woman never settles for second best.”
Graham managed a smile. Rooster was a good man. One of the best young ones to come along in a while. He’d worked with him on several cases, and he was always thankful to have him as a backup when the going got rough.
“Did you work the Minerva parade?” Graham asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.
“Yeah, matter of fact, I did. Why?”
“I was just looking over this report. It says one of the float riders passed out and ended up in the hospital. She claims she saw someone murdered.”
“We checked it out. The streets were packed, and not one other report came in to substantiate her story.”
“So you think it was a false alarm.”
“No doubt about it. There was lots to see out there tonight, believe me, but fortunately, there were no dead bodies.”
Rooster started to leave, then turned around and lounged in the doorway. “You know, it’s amazing what body parts some girls will show for a string of cheap beads.”
Graham drained the last drop of coffee from his cup and rose to go. “Not all women settle for cheap beads, old boy. Some want it all. Power, prestige and lots of cash. Especially cash.” Flicking off the light, he headed for the front door.
“Don’t tell me you’re back on that old gripe again. You need a good woman, Graham. That’s what’s wrong with you.”
“I need sleep. And I’m on my way to get some, right now. You’d better do the same. Anything might happen during the next week and a half, and probably will.”
Graham toyed with the keys in his pocket as he took the steps to street level. He was tired, but there was only one way he’d get any sleep tonight.
He’d have to make a quick stop at Touro first.
* * *
LINDSEY TRIED to catch her breath. She’d been running for hours, looking everywhere for something...someone. She couldn’t remember.
“Lindsey, are you all right?”
The voice seemed to come from nowhere. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. A strong hand wrapped around hers, stroking tenderly.
“That’s okay. Don’t try to wake up. The nurse says you need to sleep. I’ll be back in the morning, and you can tell me everything.”
She breathed deeply. It was Graham. He’d come to help her find...something, but what? It didn’t matter. Graham was here now. Everything would be all right. She closed her eyes and rested.
* * *
“HEY, Sleeping Beauty, welcome back to the land of the living. Or are you just passing through again?”
Lindsey blinked her eyes repeatedly, trying to bring the unfamiliar surroundings into focus. She was flat on her back in a single bed that was as hard as a rock, definitely not her own. The dimly lit room smelled of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.
“I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been sitting right here in this dreadful place for over two hours.”
“Brigit? What’s going on? Are you all right?” Lindsey reached out and grasped the hand of her friend, grateful for contact with warm flesh and blood and a semblance of normality.
“I’m fine. It’s you who passed out on us. You mumbled something about a soldier. Next thing we knew, you were lying on the floor of the float in a lifeless heap. Nearly scared us all to death.”
A soldier. The dashing man in uniform. The long dagger. The gush of red on the green velvet. It was coming back now. All of it. In living color. She squeezed Brigit’s hand as a frightening chill inundated her body.
“It was awful, Brigit. He murdered her in cold blood!”
With determined movements, she rose to a sitting position, throwing her bare feet over the side of the bed.
“Hey, take it easy. You’re not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway,” Brigit insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Get the police, Brigit. I have to talk to them. Now. While they still have time to catch the murderer.”
“You don’t need the police. You need a doctor, and you have one of the best. Dr. Benson, a friend of my dad’s. He says you’re suffering from a case of pure exhaustion. And an overdose of partying, of course.”
“Nonsense,” Lindsey protested. She maneuvered past Brigit’s well-meaning attempt to restrain her and pushed to her feet. Her resolve was short-lived. The room began to spin like a carousel. She sank back to the bed.
“The doctor said you’d be a little dizzy when you woke up. It’s the drugs. Aspe... Oh, I don’t remember. Something with a long name.”
The doctor was right. Now even the bed was spinning beneath her. And her mind was playing cruel tricks. She could have sworn it was Graham and not Brigit who had sat at her side during the night.
But of course it hadn’t been Graham. He didn’t even know she was in town. And even if he did, he wouldn’t be interested. It was just the drugs that were reviving thoughts she’d carefully tucked away, deep in her subconscious.
“I don’t understand it, Lindsey. What do you do up at that university that’s so important you don’t even take time to eat or sleep?”
Lindsey massaged her brow with shaking fingers. She had to clear her mind, put foolish dreams of Graham aside and remember all the details of the gruesome scene she’d witnessed. The drugs were not making it any easier. And as for working too hard, that was a way of life for her. A situation that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
“I don’t know what you or the doctor are talking about. I’m fine. But I need to see a policeman. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re ready for them, because after the way you talked to that old buzzard that was on duty when we arrived last night, I don’t think they’re going to be too friendly.”
Lindsey took a deep breath. A few hazy recollections were churning about in her mind, but none of them made much sense.
“You do remember talking to the cop, don’t you?” Brigit asked patiently. “I’m sure he remembers you. You were pretty much out of it, though. Mostly mumbling incoherently. You were a frightful—”
“So the police already know about the murder?”
“Now just stay calm, Lindsey. Dr. Benson says you shouldn’t get all choked up.”
“I have no intention of staying calm. A girl was brutally murdered. Now answer my question. Do the police know what I saw?”
“They know you were mumbling about some guy with a dagger, thanks to our benevolent head nurse. She couldn’t wait to report your so-called murder. I told her you were out of your head, but she didn’t budge from her position. Hospital policy, you know.” Brigit mimicked the nurse’s haughty manner, but Lindsey ignored her attempt at humor.
She traced the folds in her hospital sheet, then stared out the window. Even through closed blinds, it was obvious the sun was high in the sky.
“What time is it?”
Brigit studied the jeweled timepiece that adorned her wrist. “Exactly 11:36 a.m.”
“Oh, no... All night and half the day wasted.” Taking a deep breath, she pulled her drugged body up to a sitting position again. She shivered. The room felt cold, and no wonder. The only thing covering her was a thin hospital gown, and it wasn’t covering much.
“Get my clothes, Brigit. I’m not exhausted, and I’m not ill. You know me. I’ve always had trouble with motion sickness. And I probably had a little too much champagne.” She rocked forward, cradling her spinning head in her hands. “Maybe way too much champagne.”
“It’s probably not the liquor, Lindsey. The doc gave you a shot. He said it would make you sleep. And it did, too. Right through the policeman’s questioning.” She suppressed a giggle. “Except when you told him to get his fat, lazy self out of here and catch murderers. Only you didn’t put it quite that nicely.”
Lindsey groaned and crawled out of the bed, bending over to look for her shoes. They weren’t to be seen, and a quick glance around the sparsely furnished room didn’t reveal any sign of her clothes, either. She stumbled toward the small closet, grabbing the back of a chair for support when her knees proved more the consistency of Jell-O than bone.
“Your clothes aren’t here. Grace Ann took care of that. You’re the victim of a Dominican Daredevils conspiracy. You need rest. Doctor’s orders. We plan to see that you follow them.”
The Dominican Daredevils. Funny, she hadn’t thought of that nickname in years. So much had happened since her days at old Dominican High. But for Grace Ann, Brigit and the others, life was just one long extension of the friendships and habits begun so long ago. Like so many others in New Orleans, they had never moved away, had even attended colleges that let them remain close to home.
She eased back to the bed to contemplate her next move. Her friends meant well, but obviously they were convinced she’d imagined the whole stabbing incident. And apparently the doctors and the police were just as certain. A cold shiver shook her body as the scene replayed in her mind. They were wrong. Somehow, she had to prove that to them.
“Ah, Miss Latham, I see you’re awake. And feeling a lot better than you were last night, I trust.”
Lindsey looked up and into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, playful and twinkly, peering from behind a multitude of wrinkles. The graying gentleman stepped closer and stuck a steady hand in her direction.
“Dr. Matthew Benson,” he offered, grasping her outstretched hand and shaking it firmly. “How’s the head feel? Still a little dizzy?”
“Yes,” she admitted, reluctantly. She didn’t want to argue with the doctor, but she was getting out of here. Now. Or at least as soon as she located some clothes.
“The drugs appear to be wearing off fast, but I think you’ll feel a lot better for the night’s rest. You gave your young friends quite a scare when you started hallucinating.”
Brigit smiled at the doctor in conspiratorial fashion as she backed away from the bed.
“But I told them we’d see what some sleep would do for you,” the doctor continued. “I’m glad I gave you the shot before the officer showed up. If I hadn’t, I’m afraid our determined man in blue would have harassed you half the night. And you weren’t ready for that.”
Harassed? What was it with these people? Did she look like a basket case, or were murders just so commonplace in the Big Easy that nobody even bothered to report them anymore?
“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Benson, but I must talk to the police at once. Coherently. A young woman was murdered last night, and I may well be the only witness.” She turned to Brigit for support, but she had conveniently disappeared through the open door. “For all I know, the killer is still on the loose, doing who knows what,” Lindsey continued. “Running for his life. Maybe even killing again.”
The doctor flashed a patronizing smile, but his words were stopped short by a strident voice from the hall.
“You’ll have to wait. Dr. Benson would have my hide if he knew I’d let you in last night after he specified no visitors. Though personally I don’t see why he’s so worried about just another girl who overpartied. Mardi Gras! I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
Two sets of footsteps, one heavy, one barely discernible, moved closer to the door.
“I have to agree with you on that. But I’m just doing my job, ma’am. Just like you’re doing yours.”
A man’s voice. Strong and husky. And familiar, like an old love song. Lindsey struggled for air. It couldn’t be Graham. She was losing it, imagining things. Maybe the doctor was right. If her mind was playing tricks on her now, how could she be sure it had been any different last night on the float?
She waited, her body tense, as the heavy footsteps grew closer. Waited until a tall figure stepped inside, smiling uncertainly, his eyes riveted on her.
Her breath caught, settling in her throat like hot coals. She’d known this day would come eventually, but not now. Not like this.
“Hello, Lindsey.”
That was it. Two simple words. Years had come and gone since their last meeting. Ten long years, and now it all came down to a simple hello.
“Hello, Graham,” she answered, her shaky voice little more than a whisper. A thousand sleepless nights she’d wondered if her memories were accurate. If his smile was really that captivating, if his hair actually fell in lush, dark waves about his high forehead, framing his classic features. Now she knew just how deceptive memories could be. They hadn’t done him justice.
“Detective Graham Dufour, homicide,” he announced, flashing his badge for her and the others to see. His voice had almost broken on the simple hello, but it was all business now—and that was a message she needed to heed. Whatever they had once shared had died a long time ago. At least it had for him.
“I’m Dr. Benson.” The doctor broke the painful silence. He extended his hand, but the warmth he’d flashed at Lindsey was missing in his greeting to Graham. “It appears you’ve already met Miss Latham.”
“Yes. Lindsey and I are...old friends.”
Suspicion pulled at the lines of the doctor’s smile. “I’m going to let you have a few minutes with my patient. If she’s ready to see you, that is. But I want you out of here in ten minutes. She needs rest. So ask your questions fast and be on your way.”
“I’ll be fine, Doctor.” Somehow Lindsey managed a reassuring smile.
Graham’s gaze traveled over her, scrutinizing her face, her eyes, the outline of her body beneath the revealing covers of the hospital bedding. She pulled the sheet higher and raked her fingers through her long brown hair, pushing the wispy curls away from her face.
The doctor stepped to the door, then stopped. “When you’ve had enough, Miss Latham, just push that button on the edge of your bed. We’ll escort your young detective out of here.”
He pulled the door to, leaving behind a cloud of silence that threatened to suffocate her. She struggled for composure. She didn’t dare sit up, didn’t want to deal with Graham in her weakened condition. He’d surely notice the dizziness that once again had the room spinning unmercifully. He’d seen her weak and vulnerable before. He wouldn’t get that chance again.
She turned to slide the pillow higher, needing the added support.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
He stepped beside her. The smell of him assaulted her senses. A clean smell, soap and after-shave, and something more. That unmistakable musk that had always clung to him like a personal aura, a permanent badge of his masculinity.
“No, that’s okay. I can get it.”
“Of course. You always could take care of yourself, couldn’t you?”
“I manage.” At least she had been managing. Suddenly all her independence was going up in smoke. Her body longed to reach out to Graham, to bury itself in his strong arms, the way it had done last night in her dreams.
“So, what brings the famous Nashville research doctor back to old New Orleans? Surely not Mardi Gras. You were never one to mingle with the poor masses. This was always your week for skiing in the Alps.”
Sarcasm edged his voice and hardened the lines in his face. Nothing had changed in the ten years since she’d seen him. Nothing ever would. Those were the facts she needed to keep in front of her, not some romantic fantasy from her dreams.
“This isn’t about me, Graham. Things will go better for both of us if we just keep to the reason you’re here.”
“You’re right. So tell me what happened, before the good doctor runs me out.”
“I witnessed a murder last night. A young woman.”
“And where were you when this happened?” he asked, his expression cold and stony, successfully masking all feeling.
“I was on a float, in the Minerva parade.” The words came slowly, rolling off a tongue that felt too big for her mouth. No doubt another side effect of the drugs. “We had stopped. The crowds were pushing closer and closer. I backed away, against the support frame. I was just staring into the horde of spectators.”
Graham pulled up a chair and straddled it, his long legs stretching to the edge of her bed. “And you think you saw someone murdered in the crowd?” he asked, doubt clearly written in his face. “But no one else saw it?”
“No. I don’t think anything. I saw a murder.”
“Point made. And taken.” He settled in his chair.
Lindsey chose her words carefully. She needed to be as accurate as possible, in spite of the drugs. “I’m not sure where we were exactly, the route was so long. But it was somewhere in the Uptown section.”
“Was it near the beginning of the route?”
“We were about an hour into the parade, but we were moving slowly. I know we were on one of the avenues. There was a grassy neutral ground separating the two sides of the street. Almost all of the houses were huge, and they had balconies loaded with people,” she continued. “But not this one. It was dark as night, except for a sliver of light from an upstairs window. The window and room were rounded, like a turret, jutting out from the rest of the house.”
Lindsey tried hard to concentrate on her story. But everything seemed hazy. She wished she could blame it solely on the drugs, but she couldn’t deny the effect seeing Graham again was having on her senses. And the way he was staring at her now was definitely not helpful.
Detective Graham Dufour. He’d always talked of joining the police force, and she’d thought his aspirations far too limiting. But she’d been only seventeen. What had she known then of life...or love?
“And you saw something in this window,” he offered, keeping her on track like a good detective.
“Yes. A young couple, in costume.”
“A soldier and a Southern belle?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“It was in the report from the hospital. A patient named Lindsey Latham admitted for treatment. Slightly inebriated and talking out of her head, mumbling incoherently about the dashing soldier who’d stabbed the beautiful Southern belle.”
“So you knew it was me?”
“Let’s just say I thought it might be. I wasn’t sure you still were Miss Latham.”
No. He wouldn’t be. Not when he had been so distraught over their breaking up that he’d managed to stay single a whole three months.
“Did you come here last night?”
“As soon as I read the report. You were out of it.”
“But you stayed for a while?”
“Yeah. I stayed, until one of the nurses threw me out.”
Lindsey met his gaze, for just an instant, and once again pain pierced her heart. She stared at the muted pattern in the wallpaper, determined not to let Graham invade her life again.
“Are you all right, Lindsey? You look so pale.”
No, she wasn’t all right. She wouldn’t be all right as long as Graham was around, but she would never let him know it.
“I’m fine. And you’re wasting a lot of time sitting here, when you should be out catching the murderer.”
“If there’s a murderer, I’ll catch him. Now, exactly what did you see through that window, Lindsey, besides a soldier and his girlfriend?” he questioned, Sergeant—Friday.
“They were dancing, close together. His hands were around her waist. Hers were wrapped about his neck.”
“And you were able to pick up all these details?”
“Yes, I was on one of the tall floats, above the crowd. The street was narrow, and the house sat close to the sidewalk. Besides, like I told you, the round room jutted out, putting them even closer. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch them.”
“Okay. You had a perfect view, and they were dancing. Then what?”
“It was beautiful. She looked so happy, so much in love. The soldier lowered his lips and kissed her. It seemed to go on forever. His lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her. But then he dropped one hand to his side and began to run his hand along the sheath there.”
Lindsey paused. The room seemed so cold. And the memories so vibrant. “It happened so fast. No one could have stopped it. He just yanked the dagger from out of the sheath and plunged it into her heart.” She fought to steady her voice. “One minute she was lost in his kiss. The next she was crumpling to the floor.”
“It’s Mardi Gras, Lindsey. You remember how it is. The people go crazy. What you saw was probably just an act, a performance for the enjoyment of the crowds outside their window.”
“No!” She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t people listen? Why wouldn’t they believe her? She’d seen a woman murdered, and all anyone could do was question her story. “It wasn’t an act. The blood was everywhere, gushing, covering the bodice of her green velvet dress.”
“And what was the soldier doing while you watched the woman die?”
“I don’t know. I only remember her. When I noticed him again, he had started to walk away.”
“Started to walk away? What stopped him?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps me. He paused and stared out the window. I was too far away to see his eyes, of course, but his face was turned, as if he were looking straight at me. As if I were part of his deadly conspiracy.”
Her throat was dry now, like cotton. She reached for the glass of water on her table.
Graham beat her to it. He handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing against her own. She jerked away, frightened by the feelings that accompanied something so meaningless as an incidental touch. She sipped the water slowly, struggling to keep her mind on the task, to keep feelings from the past at bay. She had to concentrate, to remember everything that might lead to the killer’s arrest.
“The float jerked forward then.” She shook her head again, to clear the haze from her thoughts. “I’m not too sure about what happened next. Just that I lost my balance, slid to the side and into Brigit. When I looked up again, there was nothing where the window had been. Nothing but blackness. That’s the last thing I remember.”
Graham stepped closer. “Rounded window on the Minerva route. Neutral ground and ancient oaks,” he muttered, as if to himself. “Uptown. Maybe St. Charles or Napoleon. We’ll check it out, see what we can find. We’ll probably need to get back to you on this, though, when you’re feeling stronger.”
Lindsey jerked to a sitting position, temporarily forgetting her state of undress. She couldn’t believe his lack of concern. She had seen a murder, and she was not going to just stand by while the murderer walked away.
“What do you mean, you’ll get back to me?” she demanded. “No wonder the crime rate’s rising so fast around here! I’m the only one who can recognize that house.” She swung her feet over the side of the bed. “And I’m going with you to look for it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know what the doctor said. You need your rest.” He moved toward the door. “Besides, your description is adequate. I’m sure I can find the house even without your personal assistance.”
She pushed the call button and slid to the floor, careful to keep her back and the open hospital gown toward the wall.
The voice on the intercom wasted no time in responding. “What can we get for you, Miss Latham?”
“Clothes. And I need them now.”
“But the doctor said you needed rest, and your friend Brigit—”
“It doesn’t matter what the doctor or my friend Brigit said. I’m telling you that I’m walking out of here in the next five minutes with this police officer. It would look a whole lot better for everyone concerned if I did it with my clothes on.”
“Yes, Miss Latham. We’ll bring them at once.”
Graham’s eyes captured her, his dark eyes flashing threateningly. “Clothes or not, Lindsey, you are not going with me.”
“Listen, Graham. I’m not any more excited about spending time with you than you are with me, but we don’t have a choice. I can find that house. You can’t turn down my help. If you do, I’ll call your supervisor, the district attorney, the governor if I have to.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you can always call Daddy.”
Anger fueled Lindsey’s resolve. Daddy. Ten years, and the argument was still the same. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me, Graham. I’m the one who can recognize that house, and one way or another, I am going with you.”
“Suit yourself. I won’t spoil your chance of playing policewoman. But just remember,” he said, stepping out of the way as the nurse entered with her clothes. “Murderers don’t always listen to Daddy.”
Chapter Three
Lindsey stared out the window as she’d done for the past two hours, studying each house, each identifying detail, with the eye of a practiced researcher. She’d been so sure she would recognize the house and the window. But her memories were clouded by the sights and sounds of a Mardi Gras parade.
Everything looked different in the stark light of day. Houses that had appeared magical in the soft glow of artificial lighting now showed signs of cracked and fading paint. Cozy porches and balconies alive with eager spectators were now lonely and imposing. Except for the few stray beads that dangled haphazardly from barren tree limbs and whitewashed porch railings, there was no way to tell that the Krewe of Minerva had ever passed this way.
Maybe she wouldn’t know the house at all. They had passed several with turrets and rounded windows that swung open, but nothing about them had reached out to her. There was always something missing. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that something was. Only that it had been in the picture last night and wasn’t there today.
Graham pulled the unmarked police car to the curb and slowed to a dead stop. He reached for the parade guide and opened it again to the map of the route Minerva had followed last night.
“We’ve been down St. Charles twice, Lindsey. I say we break for lunch. We’re getting nowhere with this. Besides, that last police report confirmed the earlier one. No bodies of blondes found. No young women admitted to the hospital with dagger wounds. Not even a missing-persons report that fits your description.”
Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, she glared out the window. There was nothing to back up her claim, and now she couldn’t even locate the house. A truce of sorts had existed between Graham and her ever since they had left the hospital, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin.
“So, do you want to stop for lunch, or can I drop you off somewhere?”
“Not yet, Graham,” she insisted. “Let’s try once more. And drive slowly. The neutral ground, the trees, even the houses, look right. But something’s different.”
He shook his head in annoyance and spun the car around, heading back up the street.
Lindsey resumed her searching. The house couldn’t have moved overnight. She tried to peer through the tree branches, imagining how things had looked from her perch above the crowd.
“Stop here! In front of the brown brick!”
Graham pulled off the street and parked at the beginning of the driveway. “We studied this house earlier. You said it couldn’t be, that it wasn’t quite right,” he reminded her, his irritation no longer masked.
She jumped from the car, letting the door slam behind her. Graham followed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She ignored him, walking under and past a towering tree, her eyes following the lines of the house, beyond the wraparound balcony on the second floor, to the third-level turret. Her breath caught. This was the image haunting her mind. The perfect couple in an imperfect frame.
“This is the house.”
“You’re sure?”
“Dead sure.” She shuddered at her choice of words. “It was the angle. That’s why I didn’t recognize it before. See? The top of the right shutter is broken off. It was hidden by the tree when we were riding in the car, but from here you can see it clearly, just like I saw it last night.”
“You never mentioned a shutter before.”
“No, I’d forgotten about it. Or maybe it had never registered, except in my mind’s eye.”
“Of course. How could I forget? That photographic memory of yours let you ace every test in high school, while I struggled for Cs.”
Lindsey walked ahead of him, scrutinizing every detail of the house. It stretched out in all directions, almost Gothic in appearance. Vines of ivy climbed the steep walls, and untrimmed branches hung low around the windows.
A sudden gust of wind stirred, chilling her to the bone. But it was more than the temperature that raised goose bumps on her flesh. It was the cold feeling of doom. She took a deep breath and started up the walk.
“Hold on, Lindsey. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t just knock on the door and ask them if they happened to notice any bodies lying around. I’m a detective. These people have rights.”
“Fine. You’re a cop. I’m not. So just get back in your car and you won’t have to worry about your little policeman rules.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Graham was a few feet behind her, glaring threateningly. But this was the house. She was sure of it. She walked to the door and pressed her finger firmly against the cold bronze button. By the time the melodic chimes finished their performance, Graham was right behind her.
“Looks like no one’s home,” he offered in the long silence that followed.
Lindsey eyed him suspiciously. “Your relief is obvious. So why did you come to the hospital to question me in the first place, if you had no intention of following up on my story?”
Stepping back, he leaned his muscular frame against the brick column that bordered the steps. He smiled, the same devastating smile she remembered. But something was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Oh, I intend to follow up, all right. And if there is a murderer, I’ll catch him. You can count on it. But when I get started, I’ll do it the right way.”
She turned back to the door and gave the bell a final attempt. All was quiet. But not still. The curtain at the front window inched sideways.
“And it looks like you’re about to get started,” she quipped.
Graham shot a penetrating look in her direction and stepped in front of her. “Lucky me.”
The door opened slowly, and a tall, thin woman peeked around the edge. She wasn’t old, no more than forty-five or so, but streaks of gray dulled her dark hair, and deep lines had already formed around her mouth and beneath her eyes. The furrows in her brow deepened when Graham presented his badge and an introduction.
“I hope we’re not disturbing you too much, ma’am. I just need to talk to you a minute.”
“What is it, Officer?”
“Just a couple of questions. Someone reported a disturbance in this area last night.”
“You can come in, for a minute. But I doubt if I can be much help. I work here five days a week, but I wasn’t here last night.” A New Orleans accent flavored the woman’s voice.
She motioned them into the massive foyer with a wave of her hand. “My name’s Ruby Oleander. Most people just call me Miss Ruby.”
Graham stepped back to let Lindsey enter in front of him. “And how about the owners of the house? Are they in?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“No. They’re out of the country. In Rome. They have been for three weeks,” she explained, ushering them into the formal living room.
Lindsey took a seat beside the window and listened as Graham proceeded with the questioning, his easy manner quickly putting the suspicious housekeeper at ease.
She had worked for the LeBlancs for twenty years, Miss Ruby explained. And no doubt the LeBlancs could afford to pay her well for her services, Lindsey noted as she studied the opulent surroundings. It was no wonder Miss Ruby took her job as caretaker of the estate so seriously.
The house was furnished in antiques. Authentic, unless she missed her guess. Lindsey’s gaze followed the lines of the marble fireplace down to the hardwood floors that were covered with well-worn but exquisite Persian rugs. It was like visiting a living museum, even down to the smells of age and lingering cigarette smoke.
The place screamed money. No, not screamed, bespoke—elegantly. Apparently old money. Uptown at its finest. The same type of homes many of her high school friends had lived in. But not the way she had lived. Her dad epitomized the flashiness of new wealth. He liked life on the cutting edge, everything new and thoroughly modern.
Lindsey shifted her weight and tried to get comfortable on a period chair designed for women who had nothing more stressful to do than needlepoint.
“This must have been a great place to watch the Minerva parade from,” Graham commented, his tone as relaxed and friendly as if he were chatting with an old friend. “I heard it was impressive for a new krewe. What did you think of it?”
He was pretty smooth. Lindsey would have to give him that. She would have just plunged in herself, demanding to know who was in the house last night. Of course, Miss Ruby would probably have shut up like a clam.
“I didn’t see the parade.”
Miss Ruby’s tone cooled considerably as she responded curtly to Graham’s question and then shut up like a clam. So much for smooth.
Graham flashed her his most dazzling smile. “I didn’t see it, either. Not much of a paradegoer myself. I heard it was nice, though.”
“There’s really nothing I can tell you about last night,” Miss Ruby offered, regaining her composure quickly and sliding back into her friendly-housekeeper role. “You’ll have to ask one of the other neighbors. This house was empty last night, locked up tight.”
Lindsey squirmed about in the chair, determined to keep her mouth shut, even if it killed her. Her agitation did not go unnoticed.
“Could I get you some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea, Miss—?”
“Yes, some coffee would be nice.” Lindsey nodded appreciatively at the woman, but decided against providing her name. Especially with Graham intensifying that “keep quiet” look he’d been shooting her way ever since they’d stepped inside the door.
“And you, Detective Dufour?”
“No, nothing for me.”
Lindsey waited until Miss Ruby left the room, then moved over to the couch beside Graham. “The woman’s an expert liar,” she whispered. “That story about no one being here last night. Pure fabrication. And she told it with a straight face.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. There were people here. At least two, and one of them didn’t leave the house alive.”
“Try to stay calm, Lindsey. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting all upset.”
His eyes bored into hers, and for a second she could have sworn there was more there than just casual concern. She pulled away and moved back to her chair.
“Doctor’s orders,” he added. “Benson said he was holding me personally responsible for your well-being today. And I don’t need any more trouble.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Lindsey answered. “I can take care of myself, remember?” But she smothered any further protests. Miss Ruby’s feet were already padding back down the carpeted hallway.
The woman reentered the room slowly, bearing an impressive silver tray laden with two delicate china cups and saucers and a pot of steaming coffee.
“I brought sugar and cream, but I have artificial sweetener in the kitchen, if you prefer. You don’t look as if you need it, though,” the housekeeper offered, easing the tray onto the marble-topped table by Lindsey’s chair. She filled one cup and then looked Lindsey in the eye. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Green. Officer Green,” Graham supplied quickly.
Lindsey stirred the lump of sugar she had dropped into her coffee with renewed vigor, attempting to hide her surprise. As far as she could see, there was no possible reason to lie about her identity or to hide the fact that she’d witnessed a murder. She was perfectly willing to testify, to do whatever it took to bring the ruthless killer to justice.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Detective?” Miss Ruby asked, lifting the other cup and tipping it in his direction. “It’s fresh.”
“No, none for me, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Officer Green and I took a walk through the house. You know, check things out for you.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Detective.”
“Probably not, but like I told you earlier, there was a report by one of the parade watchers of some kind of unusual disturbance around here last night. Of course, it could be a mistake, but if someone did break in here... Well, you know, you just can’t be too careful these days.”
“They were mistaken,” Miss Ruby retorted indignantly. “If someone had been in the house last night, I would know it. You can be sure of that.”
For once, Lindsey believed her. The housekeeper didn’t miss much. It was a safe bet the woman knew that someone had been in the house. And she probably knew a lot more. Like who and why. But Graham wasn’t going to get it out of her. Not with that polite little questioning method he was using. It probably worked on some people, but Miss Ruby was far too astute for that.
“Nonetheless, we’d like to look around,” Lindsey insisted, ignoring Graham’s warning look. “What possible harm could it do? Unless, of course, you have something to hide.”
She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth, especially when she watched Miss Ruby’s guarded smile cool to a frigid frown.
“Do you have a search warrant?”
The words were issued as a challenge. Lindsey stiffened her back and silently returned the woman’s stare. She wasn’t sure what game Miss Ruby was playing, but she wasn’t about to be intimidated. Not by someone heartless enough to hide information about a murder. With a slow, deliberate movement, she placed her cup on the tray.
“No, no warrant,” Graham was assuring the housekeeper. “And there’s no reason for me to get one at this time. It was just my concern for your safety that prompted my request to check out the house.”
“I understand, and I appreciate it. But I don’t think Mr. LeBlanc would like for anyone, even a nice detective like yourself, to go wandering through his home. He values his privacy.”
“And exactly when did you say the LeBlancs would be returning from Rome?” Lindsey asked, not willing to give up without foraging out every detail she could.
“On Monday. At least Mrs. LeBlanc will. In time for the Mardi Gras hoopla. Hordes of people crowding into the streets, blocking the drives, trashing the yards. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to come back for that, but Mrs. LeBlanc loves it. Her costume ball is one of the highlights of the social calendar.”
Graham stood up and walked toward the window, his gaze traveling about the room as he moved, seeming to look at everything at once. “That balcony out there... It looks like the perfect place to catch a parade or two. Your friends and family must pester you all the time to bring them over during Mardi Gras. Especially when the LeBlancs are out of town.”
“No. Not at all. My friends know that I would never violate my employers’ trust by invading their property.”
There it was again, Lindsey noted. The same iciness that had edged her tone when she asked about the warrant. There were two sides to this woman. And one was coolly calculating.
“Sounds like the LeBlancs are pretty lucky to have you taking care of things for them. And I appreciate your taking time out to talk with us,” Graham answered.
Lindsey seethed silently. A murder had taken place in this very house, probably just above where they were sitting right now. And all Graham planned to do was waste time in meaningless conversation.
He left his post at the window and made his way back to the door. Reluctantly Lindsey followed his lead. She didn’t have a lot of choice. As much as she’d like to butt in, to pursue the questioning further, she’d seen enough movies to know that Graham was right. Improper search and questioning could blow a case right out of the courts. And she wanted the murderous soldier caught and punished, not freed on a technicality.
“Thank you for talking with us, Miss Ruby. If we have any further questions, we’ll get back to you. Or to the LeBlancs, when they return.”
“And thanks for the coffee,” Lindsey added, trying to manage some of the fake friendliness Graham seemed so good at.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“You’ve helped more than you know,” Graham assured her pleasantly.
You will be a lot more help, Lindsey wanted to add, as soon as we return with the search warrant.
Graham stepped outside and all but pulled Lindsey out with him. His stride was long and purposeful, and she had to run to keep up with him.
“‘Unless you have something to hide,’” he muttered, opening the car door on the passenger side. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you just ask her if she had a dead body upstairs? It would have been about as obvious!”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s no body upstairs. Not now. But there would have been if you and your fellow officers had investigated the crime hours ago, when I first tried to report it.”
“Don’t change the subject. You were out of line in there, Lindsey, and you damn well know it. I’m the police officer in charge. I’m the one who’s supposed to do the talking.”
Lindsey pulled herself into the car and slammed the door behind her. Could she help it if she was more efficient than the cops? “So while you’re doing the talking, how about explaining that ‘Officer Green’ routine?” she demanded as Graham opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.
“I’ll explain it, all right. It was a mistake, a big one. But it was the best excuse for having you tagging along with me I could think of on the spur of the moment. I had to do something to shut you up before you blurted out the whole story about why you were really there.”
“So what if I had? I have nothing to hide. I’m the witness, not the criminal.”
Graham reached for the black notebook stashed behind the visor. He scribbled furiously for a few minutes, then placed the notebook on the seat beside him as he started the car.
“Okay, Lindsey,” he offered, pulling the gear into reverse and backing out into the heavy traffic. “For the sake of argument, let’s say everything happened exactly the way you say.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument.”
“This is my case, and you’re my number one witness.”
“Your only witness.”
“All right. My only witness. So I say we make a bargain. I’m willing to buy your story, even though there’s no body, no motive and no suspect. We can’t even prove we’re at the right house.”
“You have my word.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m climbing out on a dead limb. But now you’ve got to trust me to handle the investigation. My way. Without your help, unless I ask for it.”
Lindsey stared straight ahead. Graham’s way or no way. Like it had always been. Why should she expect anything different? She’d trusted him once before. Ten years ago. He’d repaid her trust with betrayal. But matters of the heart were quite different from police work. Besides, she didn’t have any alternative now. She’d be catching a Sunday-night flight back to Nashville.
“Okay, Graham. We’ll do it your way.”
“Great.”
He eased up to a red light and slowed to a stop. He turned to face her, and Lindsey could all but feel his nearness. She looked away. There was nothing between them, and it had to stay that way. He hadn’t changed in any way that mattered.
“I don’t want to frighten you, Lins.”
Lins. The nickname rolled off his tongue like an endearment. Just the way it used to. Oh, God, was it always going to be like this? One minute, she had the past buried away where it belonged, the next, something as simple as a nickname turned her insides to a quivering mass. She directed her gaze straight ahead, at the bumper of the blue Buick in front of them.
“I’m sorry I got so rough with you back there.” His voice was smooth, but insistent. “But this is not a game we’re playing. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but until I am, I don’t want you to tell anyone else what you saw.”
The light turned green, but still he didn’t move.
“Promise me, Lins. No one else is to know that you’re the one who witnessed the crime. You’ve told too many people already.”
His hand squeezed hers, and behind them a horn honked impatiently.
“I promise,” she answered, “at least for now. But I’m willing to testify, Graham. I’m not afraid.”
He dropped her hand and eased his unmarked car across the intersection. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” he answered huskily. “But I am.”
* * *
THE FRENCH QUARTER on Sunday morning. Lindsey stopped for a minute, letting its magic wash over her. It was exactly as she remembered it, a wonderland of sights, sounds and tantalizing odors. She slowed her pace to a crawl as she neared the entrance to St. Louis Cathedral, marveling at the white structure that watched over Jackson Square like a kingly ruler.
It would have been only a short walk from her hotel to the Court of Two Sisters, where she was meeting the gang for brunch. Too short. That was why she’d taken the long way around, through the street musicians, mimes and sidewalk artists who breathed life into Jackson Square.
It was early for this part of the city, not quite eleven, but the tourists in town for the carnival were already out in droves.
“Paint your face, miss? Only five dollars. A special price for a pretty lady.”
Lindsey smiled at the thin young man who’d spoken, but declined his offer. A little lipstick and a touch of blush were plenty of paint for her. She crossed over the narrow street to peek in the window of La Madeleine.
She couldn’t resist a glimpse of the fresh-baked breads and pastries that filled the shelves at the bakery. The door opened, and a group of laughing tourists walked out, holding the door open long enough for Lindsey to catch the aroma of strong French coffee.
New Orleans, the Crescent City, the town where anything goes. Friday night, she’d had a taste of everything bad about the city. Today, she was experiencing the excitement of everything good. She stopped for a minute and watched a laughing clown bend and twist a couple of balloons into a floppy-eared puppy and hand it to a wide-eyed tyke. Smiling, she hurried on to meet her friends. God, she’d missed this city.
She’d loved New Orleans from the day they moved into town, just a week before her fifteenth birthday. She’d hoped against hope that for once her dad would resist the urge to open a new branch of his mining and drilling company in some foreign country. Prayed that for once he would stay in one location long enough for her to make real friends.
And she’d gotten her wish. They’d stayed four years. Long enough for her to graduate from Dominican High. Long enough for her to meet, and fall head over heels for, the handsome and popular Graham Dufour.
Graham was a big part of the reason she’d loved the city. And he was the real reason she’d stayed away for so long. She might not admit it to anyone else, but she could at least be honest with herself. Coming back to New Orleans always meant the possibility of running into Graham. And now that she had, she knew she’d been wise in staying away.
Lindsey stepped around a crack in the sidewalk and then walked through the open door into the busy restaurant. Strains of a lively jazz tune floated down the brick hallway as she squeezed past groups of patrons waiting for a table. Stretching her neck to see over the balloons that decorated the patio, she spotted Danielle and Brigit at a table near the fountain.
“About time you made it. We’re already on our second mimosa,” Brigit said.
“Good. You two have all the champagne you want, but I’m taking my orange juice straight. After Friday night, I don’t mind if I never have champagne again.”
“Party pooper,” Brigit said mockingly, scooting over to another chair and motioning Lindsey into the chair between them. “You need to sit by Danielle. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s letting that rat of a husband move back in.”
Lindsey took the chair between the two, but not because she was in any shape to do marriage counseling. She’d already had more than enough emotional upheaval for one weekend. Fortunately Grace Ann and the rest of the entourage rounded the corner, and a new series of hugs and excited chatter began.
Finally they managed to halt the gossip long enough to help themselves to plates of steaming seafood omelets, oversize portions of grits and grillades and mouth-watering eggs Benedict.
“How do you people stay so thin?” Lindsey asked, finishing the last boiled shrimp on her plate.
“Who’s thin?” Emily asked, patting her stomach, which now had stretched to support the new life growing inside it.
“Chasing kids will keep you from getting fat,” Grace Ann added, pulling out pictures of her latest.
“Oh, how adorable!” Brigit exclaimed, oohing and aahing over the photographs.
“So, when are you taking the plunge?” Angela asked Brigit teasingly. “If you’d settle down with one man, you could have one of those adorable babies of your own.”
“As soon as I meet the right man.”
“What about that hunk you were with at the Minerva Ball?” Emily asked. “The man looked like a keeper to me.”
“He’s nice, but the bells didn’t ring. Besides, he can’t afford me.”
“Money isn’t everything, Brigit. But hang in there for the bells. Love may not make the world go around, but it sure makes the bedroom a lot more fun.”
“Tell me about it, Grace Ann. You and Michael looked like brand-new lovers at the ball the other night,” Angela said. “It was hard to believe you’re the parents of two toddlers.”
“I have news, too,” Beth announced, breaking into the banter. “But not in the kids or lovers department. I’m going back to the university next year. I’ve decided to work on my Ph.D.”
A round of exuberant cheers and hugs followed her announcement. Lindsey sat back and listened, letting the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. Ten years without a reunion with her friends had been much too long. Everyone had so much to share.
She smiled as Danielle set a bowl of bread pudding drenched in rum sauce and a cup of café au lait in front of her.
“Eat up. The lady over there said it was delicious.”
Lindsey looked in the direction Danielle had pointed. The woman was petite and young, and long blond curls framed her heart-shaped face. A shudder climbed Lindsey’s spine as memories of Friday night attacked her senses. She spooned a mouthful of the rich dessert, but the delectable sweetness couldn’t lift her spirits. Not now.
A minute ago she had been one of the relaxed and carefree crowd enjoying Sunday-morning brunch. But seeing the blonde, so alive and happy, had plunged her back into reality. And the reality for Lindsey was that another woman, one much like the friends around her table, had been murdered two nights ago.
The scene had never been far from her mind, even though Brigit and the others were carefully avoiding any mention of her passing out during the parade. And they hadn’t brought up the subject of Graham Dufour. Bless them for that.
She sat quietly, watching the others. The Dominican Daredevils. They were just a group of girls who’d gone to high school together. But something had happened between them. They’d formed a special bond that nothing could separate. Not heartbreak and not good fortune. Nothing but...
The noonday sun shone down on the open patio, causing most of the diners to shed their sweaters and light jackets. Lindsey pulled hers tighter. A strange chill coursed through her veins. They were all together today. Good friends, young, energetic. The best years of their lives should still lie ahead of them.
So why was this ominous feeling weighing her down? She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even understand it herself, but somehow she knew the truth, felt it in some secret place inside her soul. They would never all be together this way again.
* * *
THE MAN INHALED SLOWLY, taking a shred of solace from the half-smoked cigarette. This was no way to live, a one-room apartment with nothing in it that belonged to him except a few changes of clothing.
He should be flying to some exotic port by now. And he would have been if things had gone as planned. But they hadn’t.
He took a last puff on the cigarette and then ground it into the ashtray. With trembling hands, he picked up a half-empty bottle of pills and shook several into his hand. Deliberately, he placed them between his dry lips, chasing them down with a swig of whiskey.
But he knew the headache wouldn’t go away, not until the whiskey did its job. Until it let him pass out and block the memories from his mind.
He hadn’t wanted to kill. He’d loved Roxy. But she’d double-crossed him, left him no choice. Still, there wouldn’t have been any problems if he’d only noticed that she had pushed back the heavy drapes and opened the window, leaving nothing but the sheer curtains to hide them from view.
Damn. The pounding in his head was growing stronger. He picked up the glass and gulped down the rest of the whiskey before letting out a string of curses. He was feeling the liquor now. It wouldn’t be long until he got some blessed relief.
Chapter Four
Graham paced the floor of the narrow office. This was just what he needed, the return of Lindsey Latham, so damn close there was no escaping her. She had been planted in that same chair for over an hour, futilely poring over photographs of every hood who plagued the streets of New Orleans.
He shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. She was cool and collected, sitting there in designer jeans that fit in all the right places and a crisp tailored blouse that opened at the neck, revealing tempting glimpses of soft flesh.
Damn, he should have known enough to run like hell when he first saw her name on the police files. She had been out of his league ten years ago, and becoming a cop sure hadn’t improved his social standing.
“Your plane leaves in little more than an hour, Lindsey. You need to get out of here if you’re going to be on it.”
She looked up, but made no move to go. “Just a few more minutes.” She bent back over the mug book, her brows wrinkled into serious furrows.
Graham dropped to his chair and lifted his loafer-clad feet to the top of his cluttered desk. He’d warned her that the chances were next to nil that she’d find a suspect this way. For the most part she was skimming through shots of common street hoods. The guy she was looking for was probably a different breed altogether.
He’d already checked out the LeBlancs. High society, filthy rich. The kind of people Lindsey had grown up with. The kind that had always made it clear Graham Dufour was a few rungs below them, not fit to date their daughters.
He picked up an almost empty mug of coffee from his desk and downed the last drops, trying to swallow with it the bitter memories that gnawed at his gut.
He’d spent years trying to forget Lindsey Latham, determined to block every thought of her from his mind. Most of the time he’d been successful. But not always. In weak moments, the traitorous memories had crept back in.
How many nights had he lain awake, wondering what it would be like to see her again? Wondering if the relentless heartache would still wring the life from him, the way it had in the first painful weeks and months after she packed up and headed off for a new life that didn’t include him.
Well, now he knew. It wasn’t a damn bit easier today than it had been then. If anything, it was worse. And even now he didn’t have the good sense to stay away from her.
He walked over and stood behind her. She still smelled of honeysuckle and summer mornings. So many things about her were the same. The soft, wispy hair that fell in dark cascades about her slender shoulders. The same dancing eyes beneath lush lashes.
But there were changes, too. Some were almost imperceptible, like the deepening of her voice, which was sexier, more self-assured than ever. Some differences were strikingly visible, like the full breasts, the sensuous curves of a woman’s hips.
At eighteen, she’d been cute and vivacious, a girl with lots of promise. At twenty-eight, the promises had all been fulfilled. He stepped away from her. The promises were for somebody else. And somebody else was welcome to them, he reminded himself.
Finally Lindsey reached the last page and closed the book. “I hate to leave like this, with nothing settled, not even a suspect for you to look for.”
“You told us everything you could.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make sense. I can see the girl as clear as day, every detail, down to the way her blond hair was swept up on top of her head, loose curls tumbling down around her cheeks.”
“It happens that way sometimes. The trauma of seeing a murder leaves you too shaken to focus on the perp.”
“But that’s not it. I do remember him. I watched him take her in his arms and kiss her. I remember the way his uniform fit his broad shoulders. I remember thinking how dashing and handsome he looked.” Her shoulders fell dejectedly. “But his face...it’s as if it didn’t exist. There were so many faces that night.”
“Maybe his back was to you.”
“No. I saw his profile. They were framed in the window. Two beautiful lovers.” She stood up and walked over to the coatrack. “I don’t understand why I can’t picture the facial features. I’ve always been so good with details. I make my living making observations.”
Funny, he knew Lindsey was a researcher, but somehow he’d never actually pictured her going to a real job. One thing was for sure. It wasn’t working so you could eat and put a roof over your head, like it was for him and his colleagues. Her father could buy and sell most people with his pocket change.
No one knew that better than Graham. Good old Frederick Latham had even tried to buy him. He hadn’t been for sale. Of course, as it turned out, he might as well have been. He walked across the room and waited for Lindsey by the office door.
“Police work is a little different, Lins. So why don’t you leave this one to us? We’ll find the killer. It may take a while, but sooner or later, he’ll slip up. When he does, we’ll nab him.”
“I hope so. But I can’t get it out of my mind. She was so pretty, so alive—”
Her voice broke on the painful words, and Graham clenched his hands into fists. What was it with him? One minute he wanted to wring Lindsey’s pretty neck for bringing old memories home to roost. The next, he was struggling with his hands just to keep them from pulling her into his arms.
Keep cool, he reminded himself. Keep everything in perspective. She is here strictly to identify a murderer. The woman has no more need of you now than she did ten years ago.
She reached for her coat, and he moved closer, helping her with it as he would any other woman who happened to be in his office. Strands of satiny hair brushed across his skin, and his hand tightened on her shoulder.
Lindsey didn’t pull away, and he couldn’t. Instead, he eased her around to face him. Her eyes stared into his, dark and moist, and her full lips curved into a half smile.
“Thanks, Graham, for believing me when no one else did.”
“No problem.” She was doing it again, making him purr, when it would be much safer to stick to his usual growl. He slid his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?”
“No, I still have Grace Ann’s car. She said to leave it in the parking garage. She’ll send someone for it.” Lindsey turned and studied the wall clock. “If I’m going to make my flight, I’ll have to leave now.”
“I know.” Reluctantly he let go of her hands and walked to the door. “Remember what I said, Lins. Don’t talk about what you saw. And if anything unusual happens, anything at all, I want you to call me at once.”
“I remember, Detective.” She gave a tiny salute. “Now you get busy and find the killer.”
“I’ll do that.”
I could do it a lot more easily if I just knew where to begin, he thought as he forced himself to turn away from the door. He had to turn away. Letting Lindsey walk out of his life again was more painful than a strong right to the gut. Watching her do it would be much worse.
* * *
LINDSEY SKIPPED hurriedly down the steps of the crumbling brick building that housed Graham’s precinct station. She had to have air, had to put some heart-saving space between herself and Detective Graham Dufour.
Her fingers shook as she reached into the compact leather bag that hung from her waist. The car keys had slipped below her wallet, and she worked her fingers down to retrieve them, scraping across the gold mask pin Grace Ann had given her as a souvenir of the krewe’s parade.
She grimaced. Fate had been unbelievably cruel the past few days. It had ruined her visit with Grace Ann, Brigit and the rest of her high school friends with a senseless crime. And as if that weren’t enough, it had struck the crowning blow, reuniting her with the one man she had hoped never to see again.
Everything had ended between them long ago. He’d told her that if she left him to go away to college, he’d be out of her life forever. She’d thought he was only bluffing. She should have known better. His threats had never been idle. Three months later, he’d forgotten her so completely he married someone else.
She shook her head to clear it and slipped the key into the Mercedes’ lock. It went in easily, but the key wouldn’t turn. Lindsey fiddled with it, slipping the key in and out several times before she finally got the door unlocked. So much for her friend’s fancy car. Even Lindsey’s old Toyota opened without a problem.
What a weekend. Now she even missed her car, she mused, sliding into the driver’s seat. She checked the rearview mirror and then maneuvered her way into the sparse Sunday-afternoon traffic. In a few short hours, she’d be home again. Then she could begin to put this bizarre weekend behind her.
Not that she’d ever forget it. Not that she wanted to until the killer was in custody, locked away so that he couldn’t kill again. That might take a long time without a description of him, identifying details she should have been able to provide. She had watched the whole thing, and she was letting everybody down, especially a young blond woman who should have had her whole life in front of her.
Lindsey glanced at her watch and then pulled over into the left-turn lane. She’d be cutting it close, but she had to drive by the LeBlanc house one more time. It was a long shot, but returning to the scene of the crime just might trigger some memory that would lead to a positive identification of the killer.
A warning nagged at the back of her mind. She’d promised Graham she’d butt out and let him handle things. But this wasn’t breaking her promise, she assured the nag. She was just going to drive by for one last look before she left town.
Lindsey eased her foot from the accelerator as she neared the house. She didn’t have the address, but she had no trouble locating it this time. She drove by slowly. There were lights in at least one window.
That was odd. The LeBlancs were supposedly out of town, and surely Ruby wouldn’t be working at six o’clock on a Sunday evening. Lindsey pulled around the corner and parked. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. She could take a brisk walk by the house and still make it to the airport in time.
She dropped her keys into her pocket and scooted out of the car, stepping over the roots of an ancient oak. The house was about half a block away, enough distance to give her time to study it as she approached.
There were lights on the first floor, in one of the rooms facing the street. The second floor was bathed in total darkness, and so was the turret that topped the house like a crown. Lindsey stopped at the edge of the property and bent over as if tying a loose shoelace. She lingered as long as she could, but there was nothing to see but the impressive architecture of a St. Charles mansion.
She walked slowly past the house, trying not to be too obvious in her spying. There was a car parked in the drive, old and sporting a front end that had weathered a few New Orleans fender benders. It might belong to Miss Ruby, but it hadn’t been there yesterday.
A car door slammed somewhere behind her, and her heart crashed against her ribs. She turned and watched a family of four climb from a van and enter a house down the street. She took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. The murder had left her jumping at shadows.
By the time her gaze had returned to the LeBlanc house, a male figure was walking out the front door, his silhouette framed in the soft glow of streetlights. Lindsey slipped behind one of the oaks that lined the avenue. The man couldn’t see her here. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much, either.
Angry voices carried across the manicured lawn, and Lindsey strained to hear them above the traffic noises. Eavesdropping was not her style, but the volume wasn’t making it much of a challenge.
“You lied to me again. I told you about that. I can’t trust you anymore!”
The voice was Miss Ruby’s. Lindsey scooted around the tree trunk until she had a partial view of the action. Growing darkness masked their features, but there was still enough light to make out their shapes and movements. The young man with the housekeeper looked to be in his mid-twenties, overweight, and with scraggly hair that hung to his shoulders. So much for honest Ruby’s vow about never inviting anyone to the house. Or maybe she hadn’t invited him.
“I told you I’m sorry. I took the key one time. That was all. I just wanted to show the place to someone.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice became a whine. “You were with that girl you’ve been hanging out with. She’s nothing but scum. She and all her friends. I told you to stay away from them, but you just won’t listen, will you?”
“They’re not scum. They’re my friends. But you won’t have to worry about Roxy anymore.”
“Like I believe that, any more than I believe the rest of your lies. You move into your own place and take up with riffraff. Just like Jerome. You forget your raising and take up with worthless scum. You’re breaking my heart, and you don’t even care.”
Lindsey stretched to her full height and peered over an overhanging branch. Miss Ruby followed the boy down the walk, her shrill voice whistling through the twilight air.
“Friends, humph! They’re just using you. That’s all. You better wake up before they get you in a lot of trouble. And I might not be able to help you this time. Mr. LeBlanc doesn’t like getting involved with the law, and I promised him you’d keep clean.”
“I am clean, Mama. I told you. I didn’t take nothing. Just the lousy old key, and you got it back, didn’t you?”
Mama. So Miss Ruby had a son, one who had taken a key. She’d have to tell Graham about this. He couldn’t be mad at her for coming here once she gave him some helpful information. Not that it mattered if he was mad or not. She was a private citizen with a perfect right to stop on a public street.
“Sure, I got the key back. But I don’t want you lying to me. I don’t want you ending up like Jerome.” Now she was all but pleading.
“No, Mama. I won’t. I promise.”
“And I hope you mean it. I sure hope you mean it. Now why don’t you come in and get a bite of supper? I’ve been cooking all day, getting ready for Miss Katie. She’ll be coming in tomorrow, and soon as she does, she’ll be filling the house with company. That woman thinks about nothing but having a good time. Not like the late Mrs. LeBlanc. God rest her soul. Now that was a lady.”
“You save your cooking for Miss Katie, Mama. I’m not hungry.”
“Of course you are. I made pecan pie. You know that’s your favorite.”
Shoulders down, the boy turned and headed back up the stairs, following meekly behind his overbearing mom.
Lindsey started back toward her car, but a strong hand grabbed her shoulder and swung her around.
“Did you miss your plane?”
“Graham, you frightened me! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same for you. There’s a little difference, though. I’m a detective. I’m supposed to be here. And if I remember correctly, we made a bargain.” His fingers dug into her flesh.
She pulled away. “I’ve kept my part of the bargain, although it was a stupid agreement to begin with. I was just driving by, and I wanted to take one last look. Just to see if it would help me remember anything.”
“You only have to remember one thing, Lindsey. Stay out of this.”
Same old Graham. He had been understanding at the police station, but that had been when she was doing things his way. Now she had acted of her own accord, without his permission, and he was jumping right down her throat again.
“I’m an adult, Graham, and I’m perfectly capable of making decisions about where I go.”
“Excuse me, I guess I just expected you to keep your word,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Sure, I just need to go home and leave the big, bad criminals to the tough guys. This may come as a surprise to you, but I’d like to do just that. Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. I’m the one who witnessed the murder.”
Graham pushed up a sleeve to look at his watch. “So your option was to miss your plane deliberately so you could hang out in front of the LeBlanc house like some two-bit private eye. Real smart.”
She glanced at her watch. Damn. Twenty minutes until takeoff. She’d never make the flight. And it was the last one tonight. Okay, she’d made a mistake—but she didn’t have to admit it to Graham, not when he was in the know-it-all mood he was right now.
“As a matter of fact, stopping by here was pretty smart,” she quipped, tossing her head back and glaring at him. “I found out that Miss Ruby has a son.”
“She has two sons, to be exact,” he told her. “Garon and Jerome Oleander. Ages twenty-two and twenty-four.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s all a matter of public record, if you know which records to look at.”
“Well, I bet you didn’t find this in any public record. One of the sons has been in trouble. I don’t know exactly what, but apparently Mr. LeBlanc had to come to the rescue.”
“Garon Oleander. Busted for possession of marijuana. Two years ago. Paid his fine and got a suspended jail sentence.”
Graham’s smug manner was growing as irritating as the mosquito that was buzzing around Lindsey’s face. She slapped at the pesky insect and wished she could do the same to the good detective. His present manner was making it a lot easier to forget their past. At least the good parts.
“Well, you might be interested to know, Mr. Detective, that Gargoyle, or whatever his name is, stole a key from Miss Ruby, and I’m sure it was the key to the LeBlanc house. And somehow I doubt if that’s public record.”
“The name is Garon. And what makes you think he stole a key?”
“I’ve been standing right here listening to them arguing. And Mama Ruby doesn’t like his friends, either. They’re all scum. Her assessment, not mine.”
“Do you think Garon could be the soldier with the dagger?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly. “In fact, his build is totally different from what I remember.”
“Okay, Lindsey. I appreciate your concern with identifying a suspect, but you’ve done your part. More than your part. I tried asking you nicely to stay out of this. Now I’m telling you. Go back to Nashville, and leave the investigation to the experts.”
Lindsey’s blood pressure shot skyward. Graham Dufour hadn’t changed one iota. But she was no longer in love with the handsome rebel from her impressionable youth. She didn’t have to play the game his way.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to follow your orders, Graham. Unless, of course, you have a warrant for my arrest.”
“I can get one, if I have to.”
“Then you might have to do just that.”
Anger smoldered in Graham’s eyes. “My car is parked over there, Lindsey,” he snapped, motioning toward the blue sedan parked a few yards down the avenue. “Get in it.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” she answered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “But I have my own car.”
“Look, Lindsey. I know I come on strong sometimes.” His voice softened, but didn’t lose its irritating edge. “But I only had three hours of sleep last night, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and...” He looked at the grass under his feet and took a deep breath. “And I’m worried about you.”
Damn him. There it was again, that concern that came from out of the blue and cracked her resolve. “There’s nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.”
“I know. But humor me.” He gestured toward his car. “Now, get in.”
“My car is parked—” He silenced her protests with a firm grip on her hand.
“Give me this, Lindsey. It won’t take long, but we have to talk, get a few things straight, especially since you’re not leaving town like I thought.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She’d hear him out, but she wasn’t making any promises. Finding the killer depended on her ability to identify him. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. “And just where do you plan to take me?” she questioned, climbing into the front seat of the blue Ford.
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Joanna Wayne
All She Could See Were His EyesThough Graham Dufour's ebony eyes lit up her dreams for the past ten years, Lindsey Latham hoped she could come back to New Orleans without seeing the man who'd once stolen her heart. A lot had changed between them–but one touch from the bad-boy-made-good could still ignite her desire.Then she rode in a Mardi Gras parade and saw someone else's eyes behind a mask. Those of a faceless killer who'd used the masquerade to hide his crime. And he'd seen Lindsey.Once, she'd been forced to run from Graham; now she had no choice but to run straight into his arms. For passion and for protection…
Behind the Mask
Joanna Wayne
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lindsey Latham—She was determined to put old memories behind her, but someone wasn’t letting her…
Graham Dufour—He wasn’t good enough for Lindsey ten years ago, but he’s the only one who can save her now.
Katie LeBlanc—Married to the wealthy owner of the Uptown mansion where the murder took place, she claims total innocence. But how much does she really know?
Thomas LeBlanc—Is he the dashingly handsome playboy he seems—or something far more sinister?
Ruby Oleander—The faithful housekeeper who has her own agenda.
Garon Oleander—Ruby’s youngest son. He keeps his secrets well.
Jerome Oleander—Ruby’s clever son, a man who plays by his own rules.
Contents
Chapter One (#uf086fc00-4880-5e85-b179-ab36fe2ee382)
Chapter Two (#u5f17e841-7082-5b57-b729-6e5911802002)
Chapter Three (#u63dde998-b645-558e-a638-84b01b86874d)
Chapter Four (#u3bb683fd-b331-58b7-82a6-bb4971afad1a)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Lindsey Latham lunged for the support rail as the jerky movements of the Mardi Gras float propelled her forward. She breathed deeply, determined to ward off a persistent bout of queasiness, and stared out into the never-ending sea of faces. They were all one now, a voluminous cloud of eyes and mouths floating in space. And hands. Thousands of hands, all waving wildly and begging for the baubles that glittered in the moonlight like precious jewels.
“Hey, lady, throw me something—for the baby!”
Lindsey adjusted her feathered mask for the umpteenth time and looked down at the demanding man, and at the small boy he lifted toward her like some heathen sacrifice. He was weaving dangerously close to the slow-moving float, throwing caution to the winds to get his share of the carnival bounty. But the child was adorable, no more than a toddler, grinning through lips coated with the sugary remains of cotton candy.
Lindsey reached into the box at her feet and took out a small stuffed alligator. The crowd around the man surged forward at the appearance of the cheap toy, all with hands outstretched, pleading for their chance at one of the prized throws. Prized, at least, for the duration of the parade.
She dropped it into the child’s chubby hands and then quickly threw a handful of doubloons to the crowd waiting patiently on the walk. She threw another one of the alligators, too, far into the crowd, to reward those who were heeding the safety warnings and staying clear of the unwieldy floats.
“I can’t believe this is your first time to ride on a Mardi Gras float, Lindsey. Don’t you just love it?” Brigit asked, her voice bubbly with excitement.
“It’s different,” Lindsey admitted. “The verdict is still out on the fun part.”
Lindsey watched as Brigit dangled a long strand of silvery beads, taunting the spectators so that they clamored around her, begging for the sparkling throw. She twirled the necklace in the air flippantly and then leaned over to drop it into the hands of an eager teenage girl.
“Wow, get a look at that!” Brigit yelled above the din of the crowd. “Just the guy I need to keep me warm at night.”
“Which guy? There’s only a few thousand out there,” Lindsey quipped good-naturedly.
“The hunk. Over there, in the LSU shirt.” She pointed with one hand and dug around in the overflowing box at her feet with the other. “I’ve got to throw him something good. Like my phone number,” she said teasingly as she caught his eye and tossed him a long string of imitation pearls.
He snagged them in his outstretched hands and blew her a kiss before adding them to the multitude already draped about the shoulders of the blonde who stood at his side.
“Glad you only threw the beads,” Angela offered, leaning over from her spot on the other side of Lindsey.
“Yeah,” Lindsey said, “I’d hate for you to waste a perfectly good phone number on a guy who probably has his own phone book.”
The procession of brightly lit and elaborately decorated floats made its way slowly down St. Charles Avenue as police on horseback tried in vain to keep the crowds pushed back. They were good citizens who’d never think of crossing an officer of the law at any other time, but carnival fever had hit. Fun was the supreme ruler from now until Fat Tuesday.
The float jerked and then came to an abrupt standstill. Lindsey clung to the side. “I hate these sudden stops,” she lamented. Even the most reserved parade viewers left their places on the walks and the neutral grounds that bordered the parade route to swarm around them. She backed away from the edge as the noisy crowd pushed closer, climbing atop friends’ and parents’ shoulders to shove hands and even faces into her space.
“Just relax, Lindsey. Have fun. This is the best part. The rough part comes later, when we hit Canal Street,” Angela said, the thrill of the night adding a lilt to her Uptown accent. She tossed a large supply of beads and doubloons into the street below them, clearly taking her own advice.
“Enjoy it. This is the best part,” Lindsey repeated to herself. She should be having a ball. The other seven girls on her float were.
But they were native New Orleanians, she reminded herself. Even in high school, they had been far more practiced at carnival revelry than she. Not that she hadn’t loved the Mardi Gras season. It was just that her tendency to order and organize had always made it a little more difficult for her to dissolve into a state of total chaos.
But here she was, back in New Orleans with her high school classmates, partying as if it hadn’t been ten years since they were young and eager seniors at Dominican High. She was here, and she had followed their urging, joining in all the Mardi Gras festivities. Parties, masked balls, coronations...
And the krewe’s big parade.
The float jerked forward, bucking like a nervous horse. The motion sickness Lindsey had been fighting all evening attacked again, this time with a vengeance. She held on to the sides of the float and silently ordered her stomach to cooperate.
She knew better than to ride in the parade. But saying no to this bunch of party animals had been about as useless as that last order she had given her stomach. Especially with Grace Ann resorting to her infamous pleading look. The one that had been known to topple powerful men like matchsticks.
Grace Ann had been one of her best friends in school. Sweet, pretty, incredibly rich and generous to a fault. And now she was Queen Grace Ann, of the Krewe of Minerva, a regal monarch who wasn’t willing to take no for an answer. What was the good of being queen, she had argued quite persuasively, if your friends wouldn’t help you celebrate?
So here she was, Lindsey mused, atop a tractor-pulled contraption of brightly painted papier-mâché figures, her costume slipping off her shoulders and her mask riding her nose like a loose saddle. And she was trying not to even think what her stomach was doing while the float snaked along at the pace of an aged snail.
Brigit leaned over the edge, dropping toys and decorated plastic cups to a group of youngsters who were all but climbing in with them. “Come on, get with it,” she told Lindsey playfully. “Your adoring public is begging for treats.”
Lindsey tossed a supply of beads into the crowd, high above the heads of those who swarmed around her. She tossed more toward a balcony full of gray-haired women hanging over the rails. Brigit was probably right about this being the best part of the route. Huge oaks and massive old homes lined the wide streets. And the crowd, though rowdy by her standards, was mostly families, out to enjoy a beautiful evening and all the excitement of Mardi Gras.
She reached for more beads, but the float jerked to a stop, sending her swaying against the rail.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Here? Now? You can’t be.” Brigit offered a reassuring pat. “But, if you must, aim for that tall guy with the stupid hat. He grabs everything I try to throw to anyone else,” she suggested, only half joking.
Lindsey smiled in spite of herself, although Brigit would never see her expression beneath the stiff masks all the float riders were forced to wear. “I’m serious. I may have to bail out. I could signal one of the policemen to get me a ride.”
“Sure, there are plenty of medical people around,” Danielle threw in, stepping from the back corner to join in the conversation, “although it’s usually the marchers that pass out, not the riders. But you’d miss all the fun.”
“But I don’t know how much more fun I can handle,” Lindsey countered. “The two hours of serious toasting before we even started rolling is a tad more than I’m used to.” She leaned back, resting her head against the float’s center frame. “I’ll try to make it a while longer, though,” she conceded. “Who knows? I might get the hang of this, if I last long enough.”
The band that marched in front of the float swung into a popular rock tune, and the fun-loving spectators broke into applause. The faces in the crowd were shifting now, moving and swaying to the music as the float inched forward. Lindsey stood between her two friends and strived to adopt their carefree manner. She stared into the night, trying to focus on eyes, mouths and noses that appeared and then disappeared, like Alice’s Cheshire cat. Now you see them, now you don’t.
She flung a multitude of colored beads into the distance. Patterns of purple, green and gold swirled magically through the night sky, falling like manna from heaven into the upstretched hands.
A beam of light caught Lindsey’s attention and held it. A tiny sliver of illumination in an otherwise darkened house. There were no people on this balcony, just a lit window in the middle of a rounded turret. The curved French window was pushed open, and the night breeze caught the wispy curtain, billowing it like a sail.
A couple danced into view. The girl was dressed in flowing velvet, her long blond hair encircling her face like an ethereal halo. The man held her close, and she rested her head on his broad shoulder.
They were dressed for the evening. She was the traditional Southern belle, he the dashing uniformed soldier. But they were obviously in no hurry to leave the privacy of home for a costume ball.
Young and in love. Lindsey remembered the feeling well. Too well. Especially here in this town, where it had all begun for her. Begun and ended. Squeezing her hands into fists, she smiled determinedly. She was here for fun, not to be tortured by old memories.
Mesmerized, she watched the young lovers, ignoring the chanting crowds around her. She sighed as he tipped his face toward the girl’s and slowly lowered his mouth to hers. Framed in the golden light, they were as clear as a motion picture, acting out their roles, celebrating carnival in their own intimate way.
He ran his hand along her arm, down to the sheath at his side. His lips never leaving hers, he pulled a shiny dagger from the sheath. He was a picture, all right, the brave young soldier, ready to protect his woman.
No, not to protect. Lindsey’s heart leaped to her throat. Oh, God! It couldn’t be!
She watched, a scream stuck in her throat, suffocated by the terror that washed over her, bringing with it bone-chilling paralysis. Watched as the dashing soldier raised the weapon high above his head and plunged it deep in his lover’s heart.
Lindsey blinked and shook her head to clear it of the warped confusion. The images couldn’t be what they seemed. A deception, a cruel joke, but not what they seemed.
Yet the woman was slumping to the floor, the green velvet pooling around her, drinking up the crimson river that flowed from her chest. The man turned, for an instant, for an eternity. Then his eyes bored into Lindsey’s. For a moment, they were as one—the cold, hard perpetrator and the silent witness.
Her body began to shake, spinning as the float jerked forward, but still she couldn’t scream. And she couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her face from the nightmare that had begun with a kiss.
Then, suddenly, the sliver of light went black. Lindsey fell forward, and her whole world was bathed in darkness.
Chapter Two
Detective Graham Dufour dragged himself into headquarters at half past two in the morning and poured himself a mug of old and mercifully strong coffee before plopping down in his swivel chair. He rubbed tired fingers across his brow and lifted the mug to his lips. No need to worry about caffeine overload tonight. As tired as he was, he’d drop off to sleep in two seconds flat. With luck, he could persuade his body to wait until he got home and into bed first.
Another one down, he reminded himself, with the smallest inkling of satisfaction. The first big weekend of this year’s Mardi Gras season was half-over, and there had been no major incidents reported. Now, if that record could just hold until the big day...
He picked up the computer printout of the night’s routine complaints. It was a bad habit of his. Minor infractions weren’t his responsibility anymore, not since he’d been promoted to homicide. Nothing but the big stuff for him, except during Mardi Gras, of course. For two weeks a year, everybody pulled a few extra duties. It was the only way the good old NOPD could stretch its manpower to safe levels.
Lack of sleep blurred the names as he skimmed the list. A few drunks arrested in the Quarter. Nothing serious, just tourists satisfying appetites they didn’t give in to at home. Several fights, a mugging on Esplanade, a parade watcher hit in the stomach with a cymbal. And some woman claiming she’d witnessed a murder.
Instinctively his mind jumped into working gear. Female on Minerva float, slightly inebriated, passed out and came to in Touro Infirmary mumbling something about seeing a murder.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. A few drinks and those rich society babes in the Minerva parade are liable to see anything,” he mumbled to nobody in particular.
Lindsey Latham.
The name jumped out at him like a striking snake. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain that settled in his gut. Old memories died hard. And some never quite made it to oblivion.
Lindsey Latham was one of those. The vivacious sweetheart of Dominican High. Daddy’s girl. She’d been the prime example of what brains, looks and money could produce. She’d had it all, including Graham’s young and impressionable heart. But what was the heart of a poor jock worth? Evidently nothing, judging from the way she’d dropped him when it was time to move on to greener pastures.
Graham reached for the mug and swallowed another gulp of the black coffee. The bitter taste was suddenly a good match for his mood. It was stupid to let a mere name from his past have such a devastating effect on his ego.
Besides, Lindsey hadn’t been back to New Orleans in ten years. No reason to think she’d returned now. No, the Lindsey Latham hallucinating at Touro was probably some party-loving young debutante, hell-bent on creating her own excitement.
“Are you still here? It’s almost 3:00 a.m. I thought you’d be home and in bed now, especially on a night as quiet as this one.”
Graham nodded at the young detective who had stuck his head in the open door. “I’m on my way. But if I had a sweet little thing on the string like you do, I would’ve been out of here long ago. In fact, if I’d known you weren’t taking care of her tonight, I might’ve been entertaining her myself,” Graham joked.
“You would’ve wasted your time trying. My woman never settles for second best.”
Graham managed a smile. Rooster was a good man. One of the best young ones to come along in a while. He’d worked with him on several cases, and he was always thankful to have him as a backup when the going got rough.
“Did you work the Minerva parade?” Graham asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.
“Yeah, matter of fact, I did. Why?”
“I was just looking over this report. It says one of the float riders passed out and ended up in the hospital. She claims she saw someone murdered.”
“We checked it out. The streets were packed, and not one other report came in to substantiate her story.”
“So you think it was a false alarm.”
“No doubt about it. There was lots to see out there tonight, believe me, but fortunately, there were no dead bodies.”
Rooster started to leave, then turned around and lounged in the doorway. “You know, it’s amazing what body parts some girls will show for a string of cheap beads.”
Graham drained the last drop of coffee from his cup and rose to go. “Not all women settle for cheap beads, old boy. Some want it all. Power, prestige and lots of cash. Especially cash.” Flicking off the light, he headed for the front door.
“Don’t tell me you’re back on that old gripe again. You need a good woman, Graham. That’s what’s wrong with you.”
“I need sleep. And I’m on my way to get some, right now. You’d better do the same. Anything might happen during the next week and a half, and probably will.”
Graham toyed with the keys in his pocket as he took the steps to street level. He was tired, but there was only one way he’d get any sleep tonight.
He’d have to make a quick stop at Touro first.
* * *
LINDSEY TRIED to catch her breath. She’d been running for hours, looking everywhere for something...someone. She couldn’t remember.
“Lindsey, are you all right?”
The voice seemed to come from nowhere. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. A strong hand wrapped around hers, stroking tenderly.
“That’s okay. Don’t try to wake up. The nurse says you need to sleep. I’ll be back in the morning, and you can tell me everything.”
She breathed deeply. It was Graham. He’d come to help her find...something, but what? It didn’t matter. Graham was here now. Everything would be all right. She closed her eyes and rested.
* * *
“HEY, Sleeping Beauty, welcome back to the land of the living. Or are you just passing through again?”
Lindsey blinked her eyes repeatedly, trying to bring the unfamiliar surroundings into focus. She was flat on her back in a single bed that was as hard as a rock, definitely not her own. The dimly lit room smelled of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.
“I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been sitting right here in this dreadful place for over two hours.”
“Brigit? What’s going on? Are you all right?” Lindsey reached out and grasped the hand of her friend, grateful for contact with warm flesh and blood and a semblance of normality.
“I’m fine. It’s you who passed out on us. You mumbled something about a soldier. Next thing we knew, you were lying on the floor of the float in a lifeless heap. Nearly scared us all to death.”
A soldier. The dashing man in uniform. The long dagger. The gush of red on the green velvet. It was coming back now. All of it. In living color. She squeezed Brigit’s hand as a frightening chill inundated her body.
“It was awful, Brigit. He murdered her in cold blood!”
With determined movements, she rose to a sitting position, throwing her bare feet over the side of the bed.
“Hey, take it easy. You’re not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway,” Brigit insisted, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Get the police, Brigit. I have to talk to them. Now. While they still have time to catch the murderer.”
“You don’t need the police. You need a doctor, and you have one of the best. Dr. Benson, a friend of my dad’s. He says you’re suffering from a case of pure exhaustion. And an overdose of partying, of course.”
“Nonsense,” Lindsey protested. She maneuvered past Brigit’s well-meaning attempt to restrain her and pushed to her feet. Her resolve was short-lived. The room began to spin like a carousel. She sank back to the bed.
“The doctor said you’d be a little dizzy when you woke up. It’s the drugs. Aspe... Oh, I don’t remember. Something with a long name.”
The doctor was right. Now even the bed was spinning beneath her. And her mind was playing cruel tricks. She could have sworn it was Graham and not Brigit who had sat at her side during the night.
But of course it hadn’t been Graham. He didn’t even know she was in town. And even if he did, he wouldn’t be interested. It was just the drugs that were reviving thoughts she’d carefully tucked away, deep in her subconscious.
“I don’t understand it, Lindsey. What do you do up at that university that’s so important you don’t even take time to eat or sleep?”
Lindsey massaged her brow with shaking fingers. She had to clear her mind, put foolish dreams of Graham aside and remember all the details of the gruesome scene she’d witnessed. The drugs were not making it any easier. And as for working too hard, that was a way of life for her. A situation that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
“I don’t know what you or the doctor are talking about. I’m fine. But I need to see a policeman. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re ready for them, because after the way you talked to that old buzzard that was on duty when we arrived last night, I don’t think they’re going to be too friendly.”
Lindsey took a deep breath. A few hazy recollections were churning about in her mind, but none of them made much sense.
“You do remember talking to the cop, don’t you?” Brigit asked patiently. “I’m sure he remembers you. You were pretty much out of it, though. Mostly mumbling incoherently. You were a frightful—”
“So the police already know about the murder?”
“Now just stay calm, Lindsey. Dr. Benson says you shouldn’t get all choked up.”
“I have no intention of staying calm. A girl was brutally murdered. Now answer my question. Do the police know what I saw?”
“They know you were mumbling about some guy with a dagger, thanks to our benevolent head nurse. She couldn’t wait to report your so-called murder. I told her you were out of your head, but she didn’t budge from her position. Hospital policy, you know.” Brigit mimicked the nurse’s haughty manner, but Lindsey ignored her attempt at humor.
She traced the folds in her hospital sheet, then stared out the window. Even through closed blinds, it was obvious the sun was high in the sky.
“What time is it?”
Brigit studied the jeweled timepiece that adorned her wrist. “Exactly 11:36 a.m.”
“Oh, no... All night and half the day wasted.” Taking a deep breath, she pulled her drugged body up to a sitting position again. She shivered. The room felt cold, and no wonder. The only thing covering her was a thin hospital gown, and it wasn’t covering much.
“Get my clothes, Brigit. I’m not exhausted, and I’m not ill. You know me. I’ve always had trouble with motion sickness. And I probably had a little too much champagne.” She rocked forward, cradling her spinning head in her hands. “Maybe way too much champagne.”
“It’s probably not the liquor, Lindsey. The doc gave you a shot. He said it would make you sleep. And it did, too. Right through the policeman’s questioning.” She suppressed a giggle. “Except when you told him to get his fat, lazy self out of here and catch murderers. Only you didn’t put it quite that nicely.”
Lindsey groaned and crawled out of the bed, bending over to look for her shoes. They weren’t to be seen, and a quick glance around the sparsely furnished room didn’t reveal any sign of her clothes, either. She stumbled toward the small closet, grabbing the back of a chair for support when her knees proved more the consistency of Jell-O than bone.
“Your clothes aren’t here. Grace Ann took care of that. You’re the victim of a Dominican Daredevils conspiracy. You need rest. Doctor’s orders. We plan to see that you follow them.”
The Dominican Daredevils. Funny, she hadn’t thought of that nickname in years. So much had happened since her days at old Dominican High. But for Grace Ann, Brigit and the others, life was just one long extension of the friendships and habits begun so long ago. Like so many others in New Orleans, they had never moved away, had even attended colleges that let them remain close to home.
She eased back to the bed to contemplate her next move. Her friends meant well, but obviously they were convinced she’d imagined the whole stabbing incident. And apparently the doctors and the police were just as certain. A cold shiver shook her body as the scene replayed in her mind. They were wrong. Somehow, she had to prove that to them.
“Ah, Miss Latham, I see you’re awake. And feeling a lot better than you were last night, I trust.”
Lindsey looked up and into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, playful and twinkly, peering from behind a multitude of wrinkles. The graying gentleman stepped closer and stuck a steady hand in her direction.
“Dr. Matthew Benson,” he offered, grasping her outstretched hand and shaking it firmly. “How’s the head feel? Still a little dizzy?”
“Yes,” she admitted, reluctantly. She didn’t want to argue with the doctor, but she was getting out of here. Now. Or at least as soon as she located some clothes.
“The drugs appear to be wearing off fast, but I think you’ll feel a lot better for the night’s rest. You gave your young friends quite a scare when you started hallucinating.”
Brigit smiled at the doctor in conspiratorial fashion as she backed away from the bed.
“But I told them we’d see what some sleep would do for you,” the doctor continued. “I’m glad I gave you the shot before the officer showed up. If I hadn’t, I’m afraid our determined man in blue would have harassed you half the night. And you weren’t ready for that.”
Harassed? What was it with these people? Did she look like a basket case, or were murders just so commonplace in the Big Easy that nobody even bothered to report them anymore?
“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Benson, but I must talk to the police at once. Coherently. A young woman was murdered last night, and I may well be the only witness.” She turned to Brigit for support, but she had conveniently disappeared through the open door. “For all I know, the killer is still on the loose, doing who knows what,” Lindsey continued. “Running for his life. Maybe even killing again.”
The doctor flashed a patronizing smile, but his words were stopped short by a strident voice from the hall.
“You’ll have to wait. Dr. Benson would have my hide if he knew I’d let you in last night after he specified no visitors. Though personally I don’t see why he’s so worried about just another girl who overpartied. Mardi Gras! I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
Two sets of footsteps, one heavy, one barely discernible, moved closer to the door.
“I have to agree with you on that. But I’m just doing my job, ma’am. Just like you’re doing yours.”
A man’s voice. Strong and husky. And familiar, like an old love song. Lindsey struggled for air. It couldn’t be Graham. She was losing it, imagining things. Maybe the doctor was right. If her mind was playing tricks on her now, how could she be sure it had been any different last night on the float?
She waited, her body tense, as the heavy footsteps grew closer. Waited until a tall figure stepped inside, smiling uncertainly, his eyes riveted on her.
Her breath caught, settling in her throat like hot coals. She’d known this day would come eventually, but not now. Not like this.
“Hello, Lindsey.”
That was it. Two simple words. Years had come and gone since their last meeting. Ten long years, and now it all came down to a simple hello.
“Hello, Graham,” she answered, her shaky voice little more than a whisper. A thousand sleepless nights she’d wondered if her memories were accurate. If his smile was really that captivating, if his hair actually fell in lush, dark waves about his high forehead, framing his classic features. Now she knew just how deceptive memories could be. They hadn’t done him justice.
“Detective Graham Dufour, homicide,” he announced, flashing his badge for her and the others to see. His voice had almost broken on the simple hello, but it was all business now—and that was a message she needed to heed. Whatever they had once shared had died a long time ago. At least it had for him.
“I’m Dr. Benson.” The doctor broke the painful silence. He extended his hand, but the warmth he’d flashed at Lindsey was missing in his greeting to Graham. “It appears you’ve already met Miss Latham.”
“Yes. Lindsey and I are...old friends.”
Suspicion pulled at the lines of the doctor’s smile. “I’m going to let you have a few minutes with my patient. If she’s ready to see you, that is. But I want you out of here in ten minutes. She needs rest. So ask your questions fast and be on your way.”
“I’ll be fine, Doctor.” Somehow Lindsey managed a reassuring smile.
Graham’s gaze traveled over her, scrutinizing her face, her eyes, the outline of her body beneath the revealing covers of the hospital bedding. She pulled the sheet higher and raked her fingers through her long brown hair, pushing the wispy curls away from her face.
The doctor stepped to the door, then stopped. “When you’ve had enough, Miss Latham, just push that button on the edge of your bed. We’ll escort your young detective out of here.”
He pulled the door to, leaving behind a cloud of silence that threatened to suffocate her. She struggled for composure. She didn’t dare sit up, didn’t want to deal with Graham in her weakened condition. He’d surely notice the dizziness that once again had the room spinning unmercifully. He’d seen her weak and vulnerable before. He wouldn’t get that chance again.
She turned to slide the pillow higher, needing the added support.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
He stepped beside her. The smell of him assaulted her senses. A clean smell, soap and after-shave, and something more. That unmistakable musk that had always clung to him like a personal aura, a permanent badge of his masculinity.
“No, that’s okay. I can get it.”
“Of course. You always could take care of yourself, couldn’t you?”
“I manage.” At least she had been managing. Suddenly all her independence was going up in smoke. Her body longed to reach out to Graham, to bury itself in his strong arms, the way it had done last night in her dreams.
“So, what brings the famous Nashville research doctor back to old New Orleans? Surely not Mardi Gras. You were never one to mingle with the poor masses. This was always your week for skiing in the Alps.”
Sarcasm edged his voice and hardened the lines in his face. Nothing had changed in the ten years since she’d seen him. Nothing ever would. Those were the facts she needed to keep in front of her, not some romantic fantasy from her dreams.
“This isn’t about me, Graham. Things will go better for both of us if we just keep to the reason you’re here.”
“You’re right. So tell me what happened, before the good doctor runs me out.”
“I witnessed a murder last night. A young woman.”
“And where were you when this happened?” he asked, his expression cold and stony, successfully masking all feeling.
“I was on a float, in the Minerva parade.” The words came slowly, rolling off a tongue that felt too big for her mouth. No doubt another side effect of the drugs. “We had stopped. The crowds were pushing closer and closer. I backed away, against the support frame. I was just staring into the horde of spectators.”
Graham pulled up a chair and straddled it, his long legs stretching to the edge of her bed. “And you think you saw someone murdered in the crowd?” he asked, doubt clearly written in his face. “But no one else saw it?”
“No. I don’t think anything. I saw a murder.”
“Point made. And taken.” He settled in his chair.
Lindsey chose her words carefully. She needed to be as accurate as possible, in spite of the drugs. “I’m not sure where we were exactly, the route was so long. But it was somewhere in the Uptown section.”
“Was it near the beginning of the route?”
“We were about an hour into the parade, but we were moving slowly. I know we were on one of the avenues. There was a grassy neutral ground separating the two sides of the street. Almost all of the houses were huge, and they had balconies loaded with people,” she continued. “But not this one. It was dark as night, except for a sliver of light from an upstairs window. The window and room were rounded, like a turret, jutting out from the rest of the house.”
Lindsey tried hard to concentrate on her story. But everything seemed hazy. She wished she could blame it solely on the drugs, but she couldn’t deny the effect seeing Graham again was having on her senses. And the way he was staring at her now was definitely not helpful.
Detective Graham Dufour. He’d always talked of joining the police force, and she’d thought his aspirations far too limiting. But she’d been only seventeen. What had she known then of life...or love?
“And you saw something in this window,” he offered, keeping her on track like a good detective.
“Yes. A young couple, in costume.”
“A soldier and a Southern belle?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“It was in the report from the hospital. A patient named Lindsey Latham admitted for treatment. Slightly inebriated and talking out of her head, mumbling incoherently about the dashing soldier who’d stabbed the beautiful Southern belle.”
“So you knew it was me?”
“Let’s just say I thought it might be. I wasn’t sure you still were Miss Latham.”
No. He wouldn’t be. Not when he had been so distraught over their breaking up that he’d managed to stay single a whole three months.
“Did you come here last night?”
“As soon as I read the report. You were out of it.”
“But you stayed for a while?”
“Yeah. I stayed, until one of the nurses threw me out.”
Lindsey met his gaze, for just an instant, and once again pain pierced her heart. She stared at the muted pattern in the wallpaper, determined not to let Graham invade her life again.
“Are you all right, Lindsey? You look so pale.”
No, she wasn’t all right. She wouldn’t be all right as long as Graham was around, but she would never let him know it.
“I’m fine. And you’re wasting a lot of time sitting here, when you should be out catching the murderer.”
“If there’s a murderer, I’ll catch him. Now, exactly what did you see through that window, Lindsey, besides a soldier and his girlfriend?” he questioned, Sergeant—Friday.
“They were dancing, close together. His hands were around her waist. Hers were wrapped about his neck.”
“And you were able to pick up all these details?”
“Yes, I was on one of the tall floats, above the crowd. The street was narrow, and the house sat close to the sidewalk. Besides, like I told you, the round room jutted out, putting them even closer. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch them.”
“Okay. You had a perfect view, and they were dancing. Then what?”
“It was beautiful. She looked so happy, so much in love. The soldier lowered his lips and kissed her. It seemed to go on forever. His lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her. But then he dropped one hand to his side and began to run his hand along the sheath there.”
Lindsey paused. The room seemed so cold. And the memories so vibrant. “It happened so fast. No one could have stopped it. He just yanked the dagger from out of the sheath and plunged it into her heart.” She fought to steady her voice. “One minute she was lost in his kiss. The next she was crumpling to the floor.”
“It’s Mardi Gras, Lindsey. You remember how it is. The people go crazy. What you saw was probably just an act, a performance for the enjoyment of the crowds outside their window.”
“No!” She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t people listen? Why wouldn’t they believe her? She’d seen a woman murdered, and all anyone could do was question her story. “It wasn’t an act. The blood was everywhere, gushing, covering the bodice of her green velvet dress.”
“And what was the soldier doing while you watched the woman die?”
“I don’t know. I only remember her. When I noticed him again, he had started to walk away.”
“Started to walk away? What stopped him?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps me. He paused and stared out the window. I was too far away to see his eyes, of course, but his face was turned, as if he were looking straight at me. As if I were part of his deadly conspiracy.”
Her throat was dry now, like cotton. She reached for the glass of water on her table.
Graham beat her to it. He handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing against her own. She jerked away, frightened by the feelings that accompanied something so meaningless as an incidental touch. She sipped the water slowly, struggling to keep her mind on the task, to keep feelings from the past at bay. She had to concentrate, to remember everything that might lead to the killer’s arrest.
“The float jerked forward then.” She shook her head again, to clear the haze from her thoughts. “I’m not too sure about what happened next. Just that I lost my balance, slid to the side and into Brigit. When I looked up again, there was nothing where the window had been. Nothing but blackness. That’s the last thing I remember.”
Graham stepped closer. “Rounded window on the Minerva route. Neutral ground and ancient oaks,” he muttered, as if to himself. “Uptown. Maybe St. Charles or Napoleon. We’ll check it out, see what we can find. We’ll probably need to get back to you on this, though, when you’re feeling stronger.”
Lindsey jerked to a sitting position, temporarily forgetting her state of undress. She couldn’t believe his lack of concern. She had seen a murder, and she was not going to just stand by while the murderer walked away.
“What do you mean, you’ll get back to me?” she demanded. “No wonder the crime rate’s rising so fast around here! I’m the only one who can recognize that house.” She swung her feet over the side of the bed. “And I’m going with you to look for it!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know what the doctor said. You need your rest.” He moved toward the door. “Besides, your description is adequate. I’m sure I can find the house even without your personal assistance.”
She pushed the call button and slid to the floor, careful to keep her back and the open hospital gown toward the wall.
The voice on the intercom wasted no time in responding. “What can we get for you, Miss Latham?”
“Clothes. And I need them now.”
“But the doctor said you needed rest, and your friend Brigit—”
“It doesn’t matter what the doctor or my friend Brigit said. I’m telling you that I’m walking out of here in the next five minutes with this police officer. It would look a whole lot better for everyone concerned if I did it with my clothes on.”
“Yes, Miss Latham. We’ll bring them at once.”
Graham’s eyes captured her, his dark eyes flashing threateningly. “Clothes or not, Lindsey, you are not going with me.”
“Listen, Graham. I’m not any more excited about spending time with you than you are with me, but we don’t have a choice. I can find that house. You can’t turn down my help. If you do, I’ll call your supervisor, the district attorney, the governor if I have to.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you can always call Daddy.”
Anger fueled Lindsey’s resolve. Daddy. Ten years, and the argument was still the same. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me, Graham. I’m the one who can recognize that house, and one way or another, I am going with you.”
“Suit yourself. I won’t spoil your chance of playing policewoman. But just remember,” he said, stepping out of the way as the nurse entered with her clothes. “Murderers don’t always listen to Daddy.”
Chapter Three
Lindsey stared out the window as she’d done for the past two hours, studying each house, each identifying detail, with the eye of a practiced researcher. She’d been so sure she would recognize the house and the window. But her memories were clouded by the sights and sounds of a Mardi Gras parade.
Everything looked different in the stark light of day. Houses that had appeared magical in the soft glow of artificial lighting now showed signs of cracked and fading paint. Cozy porches and balconies alive with eager spectators were now lonely and imposing. Except for the few stray beads that dangled haphazardly from barren tree limbs and whitewashed porch railings, there was no way to tell that the Krewe of Minerva had ever passed this way.
Maybe she wouldn’t know the house at all. They had passed several with turrets and rounded windows that swung open, but nothing about them had reached out to her. There was always something missing. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that something was. Only that it had been in the picture last night and wasn’t there today.
Graham pulled the unmarked police car to the curb and slowed to a dead stop. He reached for the parade guide and opened it again to the map of the route Minerva had followed last night.
“We’ve been down St. Charles twice, Lindsey. I say we break for lunch. We’re getting nowhere with this. Besides, that last police report confirmed the earlier one. No bodies of blondes found. No young women admitted to the hospital with dagger wounds. Not even a missing-persons report that fits your description.”
Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, she glared out the window. There was nothing to back up her claim, and now she couldn’t even locate the house. A truce of sorts had existed between Graham and her ever since they had left the hospital, but she could tell his patience was wearing thin.
“So, do you want to stop for lunch, or can I drop you off somewhere?”
“Not yet, Graham,” she insisted. “Let’s try once more. And drive slowly. The neutral ground, the trees, even the houses, look right. But something’s different.”
He shook his head in annoyance and spun the car around, heading back up the street.
Lindsey resumed her searching. The house couldn’t have moved overnight. She tried to peer through the tree branches, imagining how things had looked from her perch above the crowd.
“Stop here! In front of the brown brick!”
Graham pulled off the street and parked at the beginning of the driveway. “We studied this house earlier. You said it couldn’t be, that it wasn’t quite right,” he reminded her, his irritation no longer masked.
She jumped from the car, letting the door slam behind her. Graham followed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She ignored him, walking under and past a towering tree, her eyes following the lines of the house, beyond the wraparound balcony on the second floor, to the third-level turret. Her breath caught. This was the image haunting her mind. The perfect couple in an imperfect frame.
“This is the house.”
“You’re sure?”
“Dead sure.” She shuddered at her choice of words. “It was the angle. That’s why I didn’t recognize it before. See? The top of the right shutter is broken off. It was hidden by the tree when we were riding in the car, but from here you can see it clearly, just like I saw it last night.”
“You never mentioned a shutter before.”
“No, I’d forgotten about it. Or maybe it had never registered, except in my mind’s eye.”
“Of course. How could I forget? That photographic memory of yours let you ace every test in high school, while I struggled for Cs.”
Lindsey walked ahead of him, scrutinizing every detail of the house. It stretched out in all directions, almost Gothic in appearance. Vines of ivy climbed the steep walls, and untrimmed branches hung low around the windows.
A sudden gust of wind stirred, chilling her to the bone. But it was more than the temperature that raised goose bumps on her flesh. It was the cold feeling of doom. She took a deep breath and started up the walk.
“Hold on, Lindsey. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t just knock on the door and ask them if they happened to notice any bodies lying around. I’m a detective. These people have rights.”
“Fine. You’re a cop. I’m not. So just get back in your car and you won’t have to worry about your little policeman rules.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Graham was a few feet behind her, glaring threateningly. But this was the house. She was sure of it. She walked to the door and pressed her finger firmly against the cold bronze button. By the time the melodic chimes finished their performance, Graham was right behind her.
“Looks like no one’s home,” he offered in the long silence that followed.
Lindsey eyed him suspiciously. “Your relief is obvious. So why did you come to the hospital to question me in the first place, if you had no intention of following up on my story?”
Stepping back, he leaned his muscular frame against the brick column that bordered the steps. He smiled, the same devastating smile she remembered. But something was different. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Oh, I intend to follow up, all right. And if there is a murderer, I’ll catch him. You can count on it. But when I get started, I’ll do it the right way.”
She turned back to the door and gave the bell a final attempt. All was quiet. But not still. The curtain at the front window inched sideways.
“And it looks like you’re about to get started,” she quipped.
Graham shot a penetrating look in her direction and stepped in front of her. “Lucky me.”
The door opened slowly, and a tall, thin woman peeked around the edge. She wasn’t old, no more than forty-five or so, but streaks of gray dulled her dark hair, and deep lines had already formed around her mouth and beneath her eyes. The furrows in her brow deepened when Graham presented his badge and an introduction.
“I hope we’re not disturbing you too much, ma’am. I just need to talk to you a minute.”
“What is it, Officer?”
“Just a couple of questions. Someone reported a disturbance in this area last night.”
“You can come in, for a minute. But I doubt if I can be much help. I work here five days a week, but I wasn’t here last night.” A New Orleans accent flavored the woman’s voice.
She motioned them into the massive foyer with a wave of her hand. “My name’s Ruby Oleander. Most people just call me Miss Ruby.”
Graham stepped back to let Lindsey enter in front of him. “And how about the owners of the house? Are they in?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“No. They’re out of the country. In Rome. They have been for three weeks,” she explained, ushering them into the formal living room.
Lindsey took a seat beside the window and listened as Graham proceeded with the questioning, his easy manner quickly putting the suspicious housekeeper at ease.
She had worked for the LeBlancs for twenty years, Miss Ruby explained. And no doubt the LeBlancs could afford to pay her well for her services, Lindsey noted as she studied the opulent surroundings. It was no wonder Miss Ruby took her job as caretaker of the estate so seriously.
The house was furnished in antiques. Authentic, unless she missed her guess. Lindsey’s gaze followed the lines of the marble fireplace down to the hardwood floors that were covered with well-worn but exquisite Persian rugs. It was like visiting a living museum, even down to the smells of age and lingering cigarette smoke.
The place screamed money. No, not screamed, bespoke—elegantly. Apparently old money. Uptown at its finest. The same type of homes many of her high school friends had lived in. But not the way she had lived. Her dad epitomized the flashiness of new wealth. He liked life on the cutting edge, everything new and thoroughly modern.
Lindsey shifted her weight and tried to get comfortable on a period chair designed for women who had nothing more stressful to do than needlepoint.
“This must have been a great place to watch the Minerva parade from,” Graham commented, his tone as relaxed and friendly as if he were chatting with an old friend. “I heard it was impressive for a new krewe. What did you think of it?”
He was pretty smooth. Lindsey would have to give him that. She would have just plunged in herself, demanding to know who was in the house last night. Of course, Miss Ruby would probably have shut up like a clam.
“I didn’t see the parade.”
Miss Ruby’s tone cooled considerably as she responded curtly to Graham’s question and then shut up like a clam. So much for smooth.
Graham flashed her his most dazzling smile. “I didn’t see it, either. Not much of a paradegoer myself. I heard it was nice, though.”
“There’s really nothing I can tell you about last night,” Miss Ruby offered, regaining her composure quickly and sliding back into her friendly-housekeeper role. “You’ll have to ask one of the other neighbors. This house was empty last night, locked up tight.”
Lindsey squirmed about in the chair, determined to keep her mouth shut, even if it killed her. Her agitation did not go unnoticed.
“Could I get you some coffee? Or perhaps a cup of tea, Miss—?”
“Yes, some coffee would be nice.” Lindsey nodded appreciatively at the woman, but decided against providing her name. Especially with Graham intensifying that “keep quiet” look he’d been shooting her way ever since they’d stepped inside the door.
“And you, Detective Dufour?”
“No, nothing for me.”
Lindsey waited until Miss Ruby left the room, then moved over to the couch beside Graham. “The woman’s an expert liar,” she whispered. “That story about no one being here last night. Pure fabrication. And she told it with a straight face.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. There were people here. At least two, and one of them didn’t leave the house alive.”
“Try to stay calm, Lindsey. I’ll handle this. I don’t want you getting all upset.”
His eyes bored into hers, and for a second she could have sworn there was more there than just casual concern. She pulled away and moved back to her chair.
“Doctor’s orders,” he added. “Benson said he was holding me personally responsible for your well-being today. And I don’t need any more trouble.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Lindsey answered. “I can take care of myself, remember?” But she smothered any further protests. Miss Ruby’s feet were already padding back down the carpeted hallway.
The woman reentered the room slowly, bearing an impressive silver tray laden with two delicate china cups and saucers and a pot of steaming coffee.
“I brought sugar and cream, but I have artificial sweetener in the kitchen, if you prefer. You don’t look as if you need it, though,” the housekeeper offered, easing the tray onto the marble-topped table by Lindsey’s chair. She filled one cup and then looked Lindsey in the eye. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Green. Officer Green,” Graham supplied quickly.
Lindsey stirred the lump of sugar she had dropped into her coffee with renewed vigor, attempting to hide her surprise. As far as she could see, there was no possible reason to lie about her identity or to hide the fact that she’d witnessed a murder. She was perfectly willing to testify, to do whatever it took to bring the ruthless killer to justice.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Detective?” Miss Ruby asked, lifting the other cup and tipping it in his direction. “It’s fresh.”
“No, none for me, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Officer Green and I took a walk through the house. You know, check things out for you.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Detective.”
“Probably not, but like I told you earlier, there was a report by one of the parade watchers of some kind of unusual disturbance around here last night. Of course, it could be a mistake, but if someone did break in here... Well, you know, you just can’t be too careful these days.”
“They were mistaken,” Miss Ruby retorted indignantly. “If someone had been in the house last night, I would know it. You can be sure of that.”
For once, Lindsey believed her. The housekeeper didn’t miss much. It was a safe bet the woman knew that someone had been in the house. And she probably knew a lot more. Like who and why. But Graham wasn’t going to get it out of her. Not with that polite little questioning method he was using. It probably worked on some people, but Miss Ruby was far too astute for that.
“Nonetheless, we’d like to look around,” Lindsey insisted, ignoring Graham’s warning look. “What possible harm could it do? Unless, of course, you have something to hide.”
She regretted those last words as soon as they left her mouth, especially when she watched Miss Ruby’s guarded smile cool to a frigid frown.
“Do you have a search warrant?”
The words were issued as a challenge. Lindsey stiffened her back and silently returned the woman’s stare. She wasn’t sure what game Miss Ruby was playing, but she wasn’t about to be intimidated. Not by someone heartless enough to hide information about a murder. With a slow, deliberate movement, she placed her cup on the tray.
“No, no warrant,” Graham was assuring the housekeeper. “And there’s no reason for me to get one at this time. It was just my concern for your safety that prompted my request to check out the house.”
“I understand, and I appreciate it. But I don’t think Mr. LeBlanc would like for anyone, even a nice detective like yourself, to go wandering through his home. He values his privacy.”
“And exactly when did you say the LeBlancs would be returning from Rome?” Lindsey asked, not willing to give up without foraging out every detail she could.
“On Monday. At least Mrs. LeBlanc will. In time for the Mardi Gras hoopla. Hordes of people crowding into the streets, blocking the drives, trashing the yards. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to come back for that, but Mrs. LeBlanc loves it. Her costume ball is one of the highlights of the social calendar.”
Graham stood up and walked toward the window, his gaze traveling about the room as he moved, seeming to look at everything at once. “That balcony out there... It looks like the perfect place to catch a parade or two. Your friends and family must pester you all the time to bring them over during Mardi Gras. Especially when the LeBlancs are out of town.”
“No. Not at all. My friends know that I would never violate my employers’ trust by invading their property.”
There it was again, Lindsey noted. The same iciness that had edged her tone when she asked about the warrant. There were two sides to this woman. And one was coolly calculating.
“Sounds like the LeBlancs are pretty lucky to have you taking care of things for them. And I appreciate your taking time out to talk with us,” Graham answered.
Lindsey seethed silently. A murder had taken place in this very house, probably just above where they were sitting right now. And all Graham planned to do was waste time in meaningless conversation.
He left his post at the window and made his way back to the door. Reluctantly Lindsey followed his lead. She didn’t have a lot of choice. As much as she’d like to butt in, to pursue the questioning further, she’d seen enough movies to know that Graham was right. Improper search and questioning could blow a case right out of the courts. And she wanted the murderous soldier caught and punished, not freed on a technicality.
“Thank you for talking with us, Miss Ruby. If we have any further questions, we’ll get back to you. Or to the LeBlancs, when they return.”
“And thanks for the coffee,” Lindsey added, trying to manage some of the fake friendliness Graham seemed so good at.
“I’m just sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“You’ve helped more than you know,” Graham assured her pleasantly.
You will be a lot more help, Lindsey wanted to add, as soon as we return with the search warrant.
Graham stepped outside and all but pulled Lindsey out with him. His stride was long and purposeful, and she had to run to keep up with him.
“‘Unless you have something to hide,’” he muttered, opening the car door on the passenger side. “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you just ask her if she had a dead body upstairs? It would have been about as obvious!”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s no body upstairs. Not now. But there would have been if you and your fellow officers had investigated the crime hours ago, when I first tried to report it.”
“Don’t change the subject. You were out of line in there, Lindsey, and you damn well know it. I’m the police officer in charge. I’m the one who’s supposed to do the talking.”
Lindsey pulled herself into the car and slammed the door behind her. Could she help it if she was more efficient than the cops? “So while you’re doing the talking, how about explaining that ‘Officer Green’ routine?” she demanded as Graham opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.
“I’ll explain it, all right. It was a mistake, a big one. But it was the best excuse for having you tagging along with me I could think of on the spur of the moment. I had to do something to shut you up before you blurted out the whole story about why you were really there.”
“So what if I had? I have nothing to hide. I’m the witness, not the criminal.”
Graham reached for the black notebook stashed behind the visor. He scribbled furiously for a few minutes, then placed the notebook on the seat beside him as he started the car.
“Okay, Lindsey,” he offered, pulling the gear into reverse and backing out into the heavy traffic. “For the sake of argument, let’s say everything happened exactly the way you say.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument.”
“This is my case, and you’re my number one witness.”
“Your only witness.”
“All right. My only witness. So I say we make a bargain. I’m willing to buy your story, even though there’s no body, no motive and no suspect. We can’t even prove we’re at the right house.”
“You have my word.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m climbing out on a dead limb. But now you’ve got to trust me to handle the investigation. My way. Without your help, unless I ask for it.”
Lindsey stared straight ahead. Graham’s way or no way. Like it had always been. Why should she expect anything different? She’d trusted him once before. Ten years ago. He’d repaid her trust with betrayal. But matters of the heart were quite different from police work. Besides, she didn’t have any alternative now. She’d be catching a Sunday-night flight back to Nashville.
“Okay, Graham. We’ll do it your way.”
“Great.”
He eased up to a red light and slowed to a stop. He turned to face her, and Lindsey could all but feel his nearness. She looked away. There was nothing between them, and it had to stay that way. He hadn’t changed in any way that mattered.
“I don’t want to frighten you, Lins.”
Lins. The nickname rolled off his tongue like an endearment. Just the way it used to. Oh, God, was it always going to be like this? One minute, she had the past buried away where it belonged, the next, something as simple as a nickname turned her insides to a quivering mass. She directed her gaze straight ahead, at the bumper of the blue Buick in front of them.
“I’m sorry I got so rough with you back there.” His voice was smooth, but insistent. “But this is not a game we’re playing. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but until I am, I don’t want you to tell anyone else what you saw.”
The light turned green, but still he didn’t move.
“Promise me, Lins. No one else is to know that you’re the one who witnessed the crime. You’ve told too many people already.”
His hand squeezed hers, and behind them a horn honked impatiently.
“I promise,” she answered, “at least for now. But I’m willing to testify, Graham. I’m not afraid.”
He dropped her hand and eased his unmarked car across the intersection. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” he answered huskily. “But I am.”
* * *
THE FRENCH QUARTER on Sunday morning. Lindsey stopped for a minute, letting its magic wash over her. It was exactly as she remembered it, a wonderland of sights, sounds and tantalizing odors. She slowed her pace to a crawl as she neared the entrance to St. Louis Cathedral, marveling at the white structure that watched over Jackson Square like a kingly ruler.
It would have been only a short walk from her hotel to the Court of Two Sisters, where she was meeting the gang for brunch. Too short. That was why she’d taken the long way around, through the street musicians, mimes and sidewalk artists who breathed life into Jackson Square.
It was early for this part of the city, not quite eleven, but the tourists in town for the carnival were already out in droves.
“Paint your face, miss? Only five dollars. A special price for a pretty lady.”
Lindsey smiled at the thin young man who’d spoken, but declined his offer. A little lipstick and a touch of blush were plenty of paint for her. She crossed over the narrow street to peek in the window of La Madeleine.
She couldn’t resist a glimpse of the fresh-baked breads and pastries that filled the shelves at the bakery. The door opened, and a group of laughing tourists walked out, holding the door open long enough for Lindsey to catch the aroma of strong French coffee.
New Orleans, the Crescent City, the town where anything goes. Friday night, she’d had a taste of everything bad about the city. Today, she was experiencing the excitement of everything good. She stopped for a minute and watched a laughing clown bend and twist a couple of balloons into a floppy-eared puppy and hand it to a wide-eyed tyke. Smiling, she hurried on to meet her friends. God, she’d missed this city.
She’d loved New Orleans from the day they moved into town, just a week before her fifteenth birthday. She’d hoped against hope that for once her dad would resist the urge to open a new branch of his mining and drilling company in some foreign country. Prayed that for once he would stay in one location long enough for her to make real friends.
And she’d gotten her wish. They’d stayed four years. Long enough for her to graduate from Dominican High. Long enough for her to meet, and fall head over heels for, the handsome and popular Graham Dufour.
Graham was a big part of the reason she’d loved the city. And he was the real reason she’d stayed away for so long. She might not admit it to anyone else, but she could at least be honest with herself. Coming back to New Orleans always meant the possibility of running into Graham. And now that she had, she knew she’d been wise in staying away.
Lindsey stepped around a crack in the sidewalk and then walked through the open door into the busy restaurant. Strains of a lively jazz tune floated down the brick hallway as she squeezed past groups of patrons waiting for a table. Stretching her neck to see over the balloons that decorated the patio, she spotted Danielle and Brigit at a table near the fountain.
“About time you made it. We’re already on our second mimosa,” Brigit said.
“Good. You two have all the champagne you want, but I’m taking my orange juice straight. After Friday night, I don’t mind if I never have champagne again.”
“Party pooper,” Brigit said mockingly, scooting over to another chair and motioning Lindsey into the chair between them. “You need to sit by Danielle. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s letting that rat of a husband move back in.”
Lindsey took the chair between the two, but not because she was in any shape to do marriage counseling. She’d already had more than enough emotional upheaval for one weekend. Fortunately Grace Ann and the rest of the entourage rounded the corner, and a new series of hugs and excited chatter began.
Finally they managed to halt the gossip long enough to help themselves to plates of steaming seafood omelets, oversize portions of grits and grillades and mouth-watering eggs Benedict.
“How do you people stay so thin?” Lindsey asked, finishing the last boiled shrimp on her plate.
“Who’s thin?” Emily asked, patting her stomach, which now had stretched to support the new life growing inside it.
“Chasing kids will keep you from getting fat,” Grace Ann added, pulling out pictures of her latest.
“Oh, how adorable!” Brigit exclaimed, oohing and aahing over the photographs.
“So, when are you taking the plunge?” Angela asked Brigit teasingly. “If you’d settle down with one man, you could have one of those adorable babies of your own.”
“As soon as I meet the right man.”
“What about that hunk you were with at the Minerva Ball?” Emily asked. “The man looked like a keeper to me.”
“He’s nice, but the bells didn’t ring. Besides, he can’t afford me.”
“Money isn’t everything, Brigit. But hang in there for the bells. Love may not make the world go around, but it sure makes the bedroom a lot more fun.”
“Tell me about it, Grace Ann. You and Michael looked like brand-new lovers at the ball the other night,” Angela said. “It was hard to believe you’re the parents of two toddlers.”
“I have news, too,” Beth announced, breaking into the banter. “But not in the kids or lovers department. I’m going back to the university next year. I’ve decided to work on my Ph.D.”
A round of exuberant cheers and hugs followed her announcement. Lindsey sat back and listened, letting the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. Ten years without a reunion with her friends had been much too long. Everyone had so much to share.
She smiled as Danielle set a bowl of bread pudding drenched in rum sauce and a cup of café au lait in front of her.
“Eat up. The lady over there said it was delicious.”
Lindsey looked in the direction Danielle had pointed. The woman was petite and young, and long blond curls framed her heart-shaped face. A shudder climbed Lindsey’s spine as memories of Friday night attacked her senses. She spooned a mouthful of the rich dessert, but the delectable sweetness couldn’t lift her spirits. Not now.
A minute ago she had been one of the relaxed and carefree crowd enjoying Sunday-morning brunch. But seeing the blonde, so alive and happy, had plunged her back into reality. And the reality for Lindsey was that another woman, one much like the friends around her table, had been murdered two nights ago.
The scene had never been far from her mind, even though Brigit and the others were carefully avoiding any mention of her passing out during the parade. And they hadn’t brought up the subject of Graham Dufour. Bless them for that.
She sat quietly, watching the others. The Dominican Daredevils. They were just a group of girls who’d gone to high school together. But something had happened between them. They’d formed a special bond that nothing could separate. Not heartbreak and not good fortune. Nothing but...
The noonday sun shone down on the open patio, causing most of the diners to shed their sweaters and light jackets. Lindsey pulled hers tighter. A strange chill coursed through her veins. They were all together today. Good friends, young, energetic. The best years of their lives should still lie ahead of them.
So why was this ominous feeling weighing her down? She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even understand it herself, but somehow she knew the truth, felt it in some secret place inside her soul. They would never all be together this way again.
* * *
THE MAN INHALED SLOWLY, taking a shred of solace from the half-smoked cigarette. This was no way to live, a one-room apartment with nothing in it that belonged to him except a few changes of clothing.
He should be flying to some exotic port by now. And he would have been if things had gone as planned. But they hadn’t.
He took a last puff on the cigarette and then ground it into the ashtray. With trembling hands, he picked up a half-empty bottle of pills and shook several into his hand. Deliberately, he placed them between his dry lips, chasing them down with a swig of whiskey.
But he knew the headache wouldn’t go away, not until the whiskey did its job. Until it let him pass out and block the memories from his mind.
He hadn’t wanted to kill. He’d loved Roxy. But she’d double-crossed him, left him no choice. Still, there wouldn’t have been any problems if he’d only noticed that she had pushed back the heavy drapes and opened the window, leaving nothing but the sheer curtains to hide them from view.
Damn. The pounding in his head was growing stronger. He picked up the glass and gulped down the rest of the whiskey before letting out a string of curses. He was feeling the liquor now. It wouldn’t be long until he got some blessed relief.
Chapter Four
Graham paced the floor of the narrow office. This was just what he needed, the return of Lindsey Latham, so damn close there was no escaping her. She had been planted in that same chair for over an hour, futilely poring over photographs of every hood who plagued the streets of New Orleans.
He shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. She was cool and collected, sitting there in designer jeans that fit in all the right places and a crisp tailored blouse that opened at the neck, revealing tempting glimpses of soft flesh.
Damn, he should have known enough to run like hell when he first saw her name on the police files. She had been out of his league ten years ago, and becoming a cop sure hadn’t improved his social standing.
“Your plane leaves in little more than an hour, Lindsey. You need to get out of here if you’re going to be on it.”
She looked up, but made no move to go. “Just a few more minutes.” She bent back over the mug book, her brows wrinkled into serious furrows.
Graham dropped to his chair and lifted his loafer-clad feet to the top of his cluttered desk. He’d warned her that the chances were next to nil that she’d find a suspect this way. For the most part she was skimming through shots of common street hoods. The guy she was looking for was probably a different breed altogether.
He’d already checked out the LeBlancs. High society, filthy rich. The kind of people Lindsey had grown up with. The kind that had always made it clear Graham Dufour was a few rungs below them, not fit to date their daughters.
He picked up an almost empty mug of coffee from his desk and downed the last drops, trying to swallow with it the bitter memories that gnawed at his gut.
He’d spent years trying to forget Lindsey Latham, determined to block every thought of her from his mind. Most of the time he’d been successful. But not always. In weak moments, the traitorous memories had crept back in.
How many nights had he lain awake, wondering what it would be like to see her again? Wondering if the relentless heartache would still wring the life from him, the way it had in the first painful weeks and months after she packed up and headed off for a new life that didn’t include him.
Well, now he knew. It wasn’t a damn bit easier today than it had been then. If anything, it was worse. And even now he didn’t have the good sense to stay away from her.
He walked over and stood behind her. She still smelled of honeysuckle and summer mornings. So many things about her were the same. The soft, wispy hair that fell in dark cascades about her slender shoulders. The same dancing eyes beneath lush lashes.
But there were changes, too. Some were almost imperceptible, like the deepening of her voice, which was sexier, more self-assured than ever. Some differences were strikingly visible, like the full breasts, the sensuous curves of a woman’s hips.
At eighteen, she’d been cute and vivacious, a girl with lots of promise. At twenty-eight, the promises had all been fulfilled. He stepped away from her. The promises were for somebody else. And somebody else was welcome to them, he reminded himself.
Finally Lindsey reached the last page and closed the book. “I hate to leave like this, with nothing settled, not even a suspect for you to look for.”
“You told us everything you could.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make sense. I can see the girl as clear as day, every detail, down to the way her blond hair was swept up on top of her head, loose curls tumbling down around her cheeks.”
“It happens that way sometimes. The trauma of seeing a murder leaves you too shaken to focus on the perp.”
“But that’s not it. I do remember him. I watched him take her in his arms and kiss her. I remember the way his uniform fit his broad shoulders. I remember thinking how dashing and handsome he looked.” Her shoulders fell dejectedly. “But his face...it’s as if it didn’t exist. There were so many faces that night.”
“Maybe his back was to you.”
“No. I saw his profile. They were framed in the window. Two beautiful lovers.” She stood up and walked over to the coatrack. “I don’t understand why I can’t picture the facial features. I’ve always been so good with details. I make my living making observations.”
Funny, he knew Lindsey was a researcher, but somehow he’d never actually pictured her going to a real job. One thing was for sure. It wasn’t working so you could eat and put a roof over your head, like it was for him and his colleagues. Her father could buy and sell most people with his pocket change.
No one knew that better than Graham. Good old Frederick Latham had even tried to buy him. He hadn’t been for sale. Of course, as it turned out, he might as well have been. He walked across the room and waited for Lindsey by the office door.
“Police work is a little different, Lins. So why don’t you leave this one to us? We’ll find the killer. It may take a while, but sooner or later, he’ll slip up. When he does, we’ll nab him.”
“I hope so. But I can’t get it out of my mind. She was so pretty, so alive—”
Her voice broke on the painful words, and Graham clenched his hands into fists. What was it with him? One minute he wanted to wring Lindsey’s pretty neck for bringing old memories home to roost. The next, he was struggling with his hands just to keep them from pulling her into his arms.
Keep cool, he reminded himself. Keep everything in perspective. She is here strictly to identify a murderer. The woman has no more need of you now than she did ten years ago.
She reached for her coat, and he moved closer, helping her with it as he would any other woman who happened to be in his office. Strands of satiny hair brushed across his skin, and his hand tightened on her shoulder.
Lindsey didn’t pull away, and he couldn’t. Instead, he eased her around to face him. Her eyes stared into his, dark and moist, and her full lips curved into a half smile.
“Thanks, Graham, for believing me when no one else did.”
“No problem.” She was doing it again, making him purr, when it would be much safer to stick to his usual growl. He slid his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?”
“No, I still have Grace Ann’s car. She said to leave it in the parking garage. She’ll send someone for it.” Lindsey turned and studied the wall clock. “If I’m going to make my flight, I’ll have to leave now.”
“I know.” Reluctantly he let go of her hands and walked to the door. “Remember what I said, Lins. Don’t talk about what you saw. And if anything unusual happens, anything at all, I want you to call me at once.”
“I remember, Detective.” She gave a tiny salute. “Now you get busy and find the killer.”
“I’ll do that.”
I could do it a lot more easily if I just knew where to begin, he thought as he forced himself to turn away from the door. He had to turn away. Letting Lindsey walk out of his life again was more painful than a strong right to the gut. Watching her do it would be much worse.
* * *
LINDSEY SKIPPED hurriedly down the steps of the crumbling brick building that housed Graham’s precinct station. She had to have air, had to put some heart-saving space between herself and Detective Graham Dufour.
Her fingers shook as she reached into the compact leather bag that hung from her waist. The car keys had slipped below her wallet, and she worked her fingers down to retrieve them, scraping across the gold mask pin Grace Ann had given her as a souvenir of the krewe’s parade.
She grimaced. Fate had been unbelievably cruel the past few days. It had ruined her visit with Grace Ann, Brigit and the rest of her high school friends with a senseless crime. And as if that weren’t enough, it had struck the crowning blow, reuniting her with the one man she had hoped never to see again.
Everything had ended between them long ago. He’d told her that if she left him to go away to college, he’d be out of her life forever. She’d thought he was only bluffing. She should have known better. His threats had never been idle. Three months later, he’d forgotten her so completely he married someone else.
She shook her head to clear it and slipped the key into the Mercedes’ lock. It went in easily, but the key wouldn’t turn. Lindsey fiddled with it, slipping the key in and out several times before she finally got the door unlocked. So much for her friend’s fancy car. Even Lindsey’s old Toyota opened without a problem.
What a weekend. Now she even missed her car, she mused, sliding into the driver’s seat. She checked the rearview mirror and then maneuvered her way into the sparse Sunday-afternoon traffic. In a few short hours, she’d be home again. Then she could begin to put this bizarre weekend behind her.
Not that she’d ever forget it. Not that she wanted to until the killer was in custody, locked away so that he couldn’t kill again. That might take a long time without a description of him, identifying details she should have been able to provide. She had watched the whole thing, and she was letting everybody down, especially a young blond woman who should have had her whole life in front of her.
Lindsey glanced at her watch and then pulled over into the left-turn lane. She’d be cutting it close, but she had to drive by the LeBlanc house one more time. It was a long shot, but returning to the scene of the crime just might trigger some memory that would lead to a positive identification of the killer.
A warning nagged at the back of her mind. She’d promised Graham she’d butt out and let him handle things. But this wasn’t breaking her promise, she assured the nag. She was just going to drive by for one last look before she left town.
Lindsey eased her foot from the accelerator as she neared the house. She didn’t have the address, but she had no trouble locating it this time. She drove by slowly. There were lights in at least one window.
That was odd. The LeBlancs were supposedly out of town, and surely Ruby wouldn’t be working at six o’clock on a Sunday evening. Lindsey pulled around the corner and parked. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. She could take a brisk walk by the house and still make it to the airport in time.
She dropped her keys into her pocket and scooted out of the car, stepping over the roots of an ancient oak. The house was about half a block away, enough distance to give her time to study it as she approached.
There were lights on the first floor, in one of the rooms facing the street. The second floor was bathed in total darkness, and so was the turret that topped the house like a crown. Lindsey stopped at the edge of the property and bent over as if tying a loose shoelace. She lingered as long as she could, but there was nothing to see but the impressive architecture of a St. Charles mansion.
She walked slowly past the house, trying not to be too obvious in her spying. There was a car parked in the drive, old and sporting a front end that had weathered a few New Orleans fender benders. It might belong to Miss Ruby, but it hadn’t been there yesterday.
A car door slammed somewhere behind her, and her heart crashed against her ribs. She turned and watched a family of four climb from a van and enter a house down the street. She took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. The murder had left her jumping at shadows.
By the time her gaze had returned to the LeBlanc house, a male figure was walking out the front door, his silhouette framed in the soft glow of streetlights. Lindsey slipped behind one of the oaks that lined the avenue. The man couldn’t see her here. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much, either.
Angry voices carried across the manicured lawn, and Lindsey strained to hear them above the traffic noises. Eavesdropping was not her style, but the volume wasn’t making it much of a challenge.
“You lied to me again. I told you about that. I can’t trust you anymore!”
The voice was Miss Ruby’s. Lindsey scooted around the tree trunk until she had a partial view of the action. Growing darkness masked their features, but there was still enough light to make out their shapes and movements. The young man with the housekeeper looked to be in his mid-twenties, overweight, and with scraggly hair that hung to his shoulders. So much for honest Ruby’s vow about never inviting anyone to the house. Or maybe she hadn’t invited him.
“I told you I’m sorry. I took the key one time. That was all. I just wanted to show the place to someone.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice became a whine. “You were with that girl you’ve been hanging out with. She’s nothing but scum. She and all her friends. I told you to stay away from them, but you just won’t listen, will you?”
“They’re not scum. They’re my friends. But you won’t have to worry about Roxy anymore.”
“Like I believe that, any more than I believe the rest of your lies. You move into your own place and take up with riffraff. Just like Jerome. You forget your raising and take up with worthless scum. You’re breaking my heart, and you don’t even care.”
Lindsey stretched to her full height and peered over an overhanging branch. Miss Ruby followed the boy down the walk, her shrill voice whistling through the twilight air.
“Friends, humph! They’re just using you. That’s all. You better wake up before they get you in a lot of trouble. And I might not be able to help you this time. Mr. LeBlanc doesn’t like getting involved with the law, and I promised him you’d keep clean.”
“I am clean, Mama. I told you. I didn’t take nothing. Just the lousy old key, and you got it back, didn’t you?”
Mama. So Miss Ruby had a son, one who had taken a key. She’d have to tell Graham about this. He couldn’t be mad at her for coming here once she gave him some helpful information. Not that it mattered if he was mad or not. She was a private citizen with a perfect right to stop on a public street.
“Sure, I got the key back. But I don’t want you lying to me. I don’t want you ending up like Jerome.” Now she was all but pleading.
“No, Mama. I won’t. I promise.”
“And I hope you mean it. I sure hope you mean it. Now why don’t you come in and get a bite of supper? I’ve been cooking all day, getting ready for Miss Katie. She’ll be coming in tomorrow, and soon as she does, she’ll be filling the house with company. That woman thinks about nothing but having a good time. Not like the late Mrs. LeBlanc. God rest her soul. Now that was a lady.”
“You save your cooking for Miss Katie, Mama. I’m not hungry.”
“Of course you are. I made pecan pie. You know that’s your favorite.”
Shoulders down, the boy turned and headed back up the stairs, following meekly behind his overbearing mom.
Lindsey started back toward her car, but a strong hand grabbed her shoulder and swung her around.
“Did you miss your plane?”
“Graham, you frightened me! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same for you. There’s a little difference, though. I’m a detective. I’m supposed to be here. And if I remember correctly, we made a bargain.” His fingers dug into her flesh.
She pulled away. “I’ve kept my part of the bargain, although it was a stupid agreement to begin with. I was just driving by, and I wanted to take one last look. Just to see if it would help me remember anything.”
“You only have to remember one thing, Lindsey. Stay out of this.”
Same old Graham. He had been understanding at the police station, but that had been when she was doing things his way. Now she had acted of her own accord, without his permission, and he was jumping right down her throat again.
“I’m an adult, Graham, and I’m perfectly capable of making decisions about where I go.”
“Excuse me, I guess I just expected you to keep your word,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Sure, I just need to go home and leave the big, bad criminals to the tough guys. This may come as a surprise to you, but I’d like to do just that. Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. I’m the one who witnessed the murder.”
Graham pushed up a sleeve to look at his watch. “So your option was to miss your plane deliberately so you could hang out in front of the LeBlanc house like some two-bit private eye. Real smart.”
She glanced at her watch. Damn. Twenty minutes until takeoff. She’d never make the flight. And it was the last one tonight. Okay, she’d made a mistake—but she didn’t have to admit it to Graham, not when he was in the know-it-all mood he was right now.
“As a matter of fact, stopping by here was pretty smart,” she quipped, tossing her head back and glaring at him. “I found out that Miss Ruby has a son.”
“She has two sons, to be exact,” he told her. “Garon and Jerome Oleander. Ages twenty-two and twenty-four.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s all a matter of public record, if you know which records to look at.”
“Well, I bet you didn’t find this in any public record. One of the sons has been in trouble. I don’t know exactly what, but apparently Mr. LeBlanc had to come to the rescue.”
“Garon Oleander. Busted for possession of marijuana. Two years ago. Paid his fine and got a suspended jail sentence.”
Graham’s smug manner was growing as irritating as the mosquito that was buzzing around Lindsey’s face. She slapped at the pesky insect and wished she could do the same to the good detective. His present manner was making it a lot easier to forget their past. At least the good parts.
“Well, you might be interested to know, Mr. Detective, that Gargoyle, or whatever his name is, stole a key from Miss Ruby, and I’m sure it was the key to the LeBlanc house. And somehow I doubt if that’s public record.”
“The name is Garon. And what makes you think he stole a key?”
“I’ve been standing right here listening to them arguing. And Mama Ruby doesn’t like his friends, either. They’re all scum. Her assessment, not mine.”
“Do you think Garon could be the soldier with the dagger?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly. “In fact, his build is totally different from what I remember.”
“Okay, Lindsey. I appreciate your concern with identifying a suspect, but you’ve done your part. More than your part. I tried asking you nicely to stay out of this. Now I’m telling you. Go back to Nashville, and leave the investigation to the experts.”
Lindsey’s blood pressure shot skyward. Graham Dufour hadn’t changed one iota. But she was no longer in love with the handsome rebel from her impressionable youth. She didn’t have to play the game his way.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to follow your orders, Graham. Unless, of course, you have a warrant for my arrest.”
“I can get one, if I have to.”
“Then you might have to do just that.”
Anger smoldered in Graham’s eyes. “My car is parked over there, Lindsey,” he snapped, motioning toward the blue sedan parked a few yards down the avenue. “Get in it.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” she answered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “But I have my own car.”
“Look, Lindsey. I know I come on strong sometimes.” His voice softened, but didn’t lose its irritating edge. “But I only had three hours of sleep last night, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and...” He looked at the grass under his feet and took a deep breath. “And I’m worried about you.”
Damn him. There it was again, that concern that came from out of the blue and cracked her resolve. “There’s nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.”
“I know. But humor me.” He gestured toward his car. “Now, get in.”
“My car is parked—” He silenced her protests with a firm grip on her hand.
“Give me this, Lindsey. It won’t take long, but we have to talk, get a few things straight, especially since you’re not leaving town like I thought.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She’d hear him out, but she wasn’t making any promises. Finding the killer depended on her ability to identify him. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. “And just where do you plan to take me?” she questioned, climbing into the front seat of the blue Ford.
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Joanna Wayne
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: All She Could See Were His EyesThough Graham Dufour′s ebony eyes lit up her dreams for the past ten years, Lindsey Latham hoped she could come back to New Orleans without seeing the man who′d once stolen her heart. A lot had changed between them–but one touch from the bad-boy-made-good could still ignite her desire.Then she rode in a Mardi Gras parade and saw someone else′s eyes behind a mask. Those of a faceless killer who′d used the masquerade to hide his crime. And he′d seen Lindsey.Once, she′d been forced to run from Graham; now she had no choice but to run straight into his arms. For passion and for protection…