The Final Victim(109)
"Is anybody up there? Jeanne?"
She doesn't answer.
She just sits in her wheelchair, and she waits, her hands clutching the mother-of-pearl handle beneath the woolen shawl on her lap.
Footsteps creak on the worn wooden treads.
Tentative footsteps, climbing toward Jeanne's private roost-the only part of this old house that is hers… if any part of it ever really was.
The top of a blond head grazes the bottom of her line of vision down the steps.
"Jeanne? Are you okay up here? I'm looking for Lianna. Is she up here with you?"
Jeanne doesn't reply.
The next stair tread creaks; more of the blond head appears.
The bangs, Jeanne notices, are still damp from where they peeked out from the hood of the black rain cloak.
This is insane, Charlotte tells herself, nearing exhaustion. She stoops into the wind, dragging each foot forward as the furious sea spits vehement waves over the concrete barrier on either side of her.
What is she doing here?
What is she trying to prove?
Dorado's voice reverberates through her mind.
Aimee was telling the truth…
Yes! She was!
So why is Charlotte risking her life out here?
Rising water is beginning to lap at her feet. She's almost across. Just a few more yards, and she'll be there.
She just has to keep on going.
We confirmed everything with the airline. She went through Atlanta, just like you said…
Why did Dorado call?
It had to be Dorado; it couldn't be a prank. He knew J too much…
But then, why would he say what he did?
Royce Maitland and his daughter Aimee were killed…
Who's lying? Royce? Or Detective Dorado?
Not Aimee.
Aimee was telling the truth…
"… just barely made the connection to Savannah because the first flight was way behind schedule…"
Yes, she was on that same flight Royce takes.
Of course she wasn't lying.
I heard the airport in the background. I heard the flight announcement. Delta Flight 6-What was it?
Six-something.
Royce takes it whenever he comes home from New Orleans.
Delta…
Delta Airlines Flight 640.
Yes, that's it. Flight 640. The one that's always on time.
"Delta Airlines Flight 640 to Atlanta is now at the gate and will begin boarding momentarily. "
Yes!
Yes…
There it is.
At last, the firefly-thought alights, barely within her grasp, flickering faintly like a birthday candle in a breeze.
No… Don't…
Charlotte desperately lunges for the memory before it can be extinguished.
"Please have your tickets ready so we can board the plane for an on-time departure…"
Yes, that's it.
The thought fully ignites, burning into her like a flame to scorch her world-her precious new life-to ashes.
An image flashes into her brain. Herself and Royce, seemingly standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon on a picture-perfect day.
The souvenir photo was a staged visual backdrop.
Is it possible that the airport announcement could have been a staged audio one?
Come on, Charlotte, think. Think about it.
She heard the airport announcement with her own ears, the plane was at the gate and they would be making an on-time departure. Aimee later mentioned it went smoothly.
But on that day, the first flight was late getting into New Orleans and back out again to Atlanta. Dorado said so himself.
Charlotte covers the last few yards toward the end of the causeway.
Somebody's lying.
But not Royce. Royce was shot. Royce has been her lone ally in this mess over the will. Royce doesn't care about money. He told her to go ahead and give it away.
But did he really think you would?
Was it all an act, her husband's utterly refreshing lack of greed?
No. It couldn't have been. Whatever the explanation for this chaos, Royce wouldn't lie to her. She believes in him. She believes him.
So who else are you going to believe?
Detective Dorado or Aimee?
Hearing a roar, she turns to see a towering wall of seawater coming at her.
It slams into her, sweeping her to blackness.
CHAPTER 18
Mimi watches as Detective Talibah Jones, a stunning African-American woman with a no-nonsense attitude, impatiently rifles through the sheaf of damp papers she just removed from the envelope the elderly gentleman tossed on the table.
"Start at the beginning, Mr. Hawthorne. I'm not following what you're trying to tell me."
"It's all there, like I said," responds the man who earlier, and hastily, introduced himself to Mimi as the Remingtons's attorney, Tyler Hawthorne.
"But what, exactly, is 'it'?" The detective looks ques-tioningly from him to Mimi, who shrugs.
Hawthorne replies, "You're holding pertinent medical records and legal contracts-"
"Which would take me hours to go through. And believe me, Mr. Hawthorne, I don't have hours to spare."
"When you find out what I'm telling you, Detective Jones, I'm sure you'll agree that it's worth your while."
"I hope so. But tell me. Don't show me." She waves the papers at him. "What's going on with this? And how; is Mrs. Johnston here involved?"