The Final Victim(105)

The thought of the wind gusting strong enough to destroy the formidable oak-and, possibly, implode the house's original windows-is enough to make her want to bolt from the room.

She forces herself to stay put.

First, you screw things up with your boyfriend because you're afraid he'll try to go too far.

Now it's all you can do not to go running downstairs to find your mommy because you 're scared of a little storm.

A tremendous blast howls against the glass as if the storm begs to differ with her inner bully.

Okay, so it's a big storm.

But it isn't a hurricane.

If it were a hurricane, Lianna tells herself, you could go running to your mommy.

Her mother must be home by now, although she wasn't a little while ago, when Lianna had asked Nydia. That's when Lianna also found out it was a tree out front that had knocked out the phone lines when it came down.

Terrific.

The only thing worse than being stuck at Oakgate in bad weather is being stuck at Oakgate in bad weather without a phone.

Hey-maybe I should go find Mom and ask her if I can have my cell back, Lianna thinks suddenly.

After all, this is an emergency. It's not like she can use the regular phone. And it's probably going to be days before they fix the lines. She can't go for days without talking to her friends… or Kevin.

Right, Kevin.

Her mother isn't going to give her the phone back. No way.

All right, so I'll just have to go find it myself.

Yeah, and when she sees the bill, she'll know you used it when you weren’t supposed to.

True, but that's probably a month away. Lianna will deal with the fallout when the time comes.

Her mind made up, she slips quietly out of her bedroom and down the hall.

The door to the room her mother shares with Royce is closed.

She opens it slowly, pleased when it doesn't creak like most of the other old doors in the house…

And what she finds on the other side is the most sickening shock of her young life.

Praying the tires won't lose traction and hydroplane, Charlotte steers the Lexus forward through yet another flooded low spot on the highway leading from the interstate to the Achoco Island Causeway. At least she's driving the SUV today, and not Royce's little Audi that she often takes.

Still, it isn't a good idea to be out in this storm in any kind of vehicle-unless it's a boat, she acknowledges, steering carefully around a wide, deep puddle.

She just has to get home.

They must be so worried about her-and God knows, she's worried about them. Chances are, everything is fine and the storm just knocked out the phone service…

But she would feel a whole lot better if she could just get home to Royce and Lianna.

At least Aimee is there, she reminds herself.

And it's not as though she won't know what to do in a storm like this. She's from New Orleans, for heaven's sake. She's survived worse. Much, much worse.

New Orleans.

Charlotte's thoughts instantly dart back to the conversation she just had with Dorado. There's something…

New Orleans…?

Karen…?

There's something she should be remembering. Something about…

Maybe not New Orleans…

Then what?

Vince…?

No. There it is again! Some elusive thought that flits like a firefly into her consciousness, only to be instantly extinguished before she can catch it.

Think, think, think…

Maybe once she's safely back home, rather than making this treacherous drive from hell, it will come back to her.

For now, all she can do is drive-Startled by a loud crack, she watches a tree crash to the earth in a flooded field off the road.

Yes, drive, and try not to get myself killed in the process.

Listening to the torrents of rain pouring onto the roof just overhead, Jeanne is surprised it hasn't started leaking yet in its usual spot on the far side of the room.

This is almost as bad as a hurricane, and she's weathered quite a few of those in all her years here at Oakgate. The roof leaks; the basement is bound to fill up with a foot of water-it always does.

Yet Jeanne supposes that she-or at least, the old house-might weather this storm as well.

But this time, she isn't planning on sticking around to witness the outcome.

Where on earth is Melanie?

Pushing aside the wheelchair parked beside the bed, Jeanne gets to her feet and goes, a bit unsteadily, to the window overlooking the front of the house.

Gazing down at the driveway, the first thing she sees is that an enormous tree has fallen alongside one of the cars. From here, she can't tell whether it's Melanie's.

Then a movement closer to the house catches her eye, and she strains to see what it is.

Oh. Somebody is down there.

She can't tell who it is; they're wearing a long black-vinyl rain cloak that whips wildly about in the wind.

As the figure comes fully into view, she realizes that he-or she-is oddly stooped over.

Oh! That's because whoever it is happens to be dragging something that must be heavy down the steps of the portico…

Something that looks for all the world like a dead body swathed in a sheet of blue plastic.

Heedless of her wet, windblown hair, Mimi paces the tiny room that she was ushered into while she waits to speak with one of the detectives on the Remington case.