The Final Victim(13)

You really should have worn flats, she chides herself ruefully, returning her gaze to her feet as she resumed picking her way along the slope.

Yes, but these heeled sandals lengthen her bare legs, and they're a bright coral-red to match her favorite sun-J dress. Royce's favorite sundress, really-which makes it,in turn, her own.

She usually doesn't like to bare her shoulders, be cause of an unsightly birthmark on her right shoulder But sometimes, the oppressive summer heat allows com fort to outweigh concern about her appearance.

She still recalls the way his eyes lit up in appreciation the first time he saw her in this particular outfit, back when they were first dating. He didn't even seem to notice the birthmark.

"You look like a luscious lobster," he said with a low whistle, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"A lobster? Is that the best you can do?" He nuzzled her neck and said, "Lobster is a well-known aphrodisiac."

"I thought that was oysters."

"Well, you don't look a bit like an oyster," was his response, and they shared a laugh.

A whirlwind courtship, a year of marriage, and still madly in love-this, she thinks often, in gratitude laced with relief, is how marriage should be.

Thank God, thank God, thank God for Royce. Royce, who healed her in so many ways. She emerged from her marriage to Vincent not just a bereaved mother, but a barren wife as well.

Her first husband lost interest in her sexually the moment she told him she was pregnant with Adam. Her gynecologist, when she reluctantly turned to him in despair, assured her that it was a fairly common syndrome in men, and that once the baby was born, and she regained her figure, and life settled back to normal, Vincent would want her again. That didn't happen. Ever.

It wasn't until Royce came along that Charlotte discovered what it was to be truly desired, unconditionally. Truly loved.

Thank God, thank God, thank God for Royce. With him, her life is complete.

As complete as it can ever be. Even a loving husband can't fill the hollow place left by Adam's death. But if Royce hadn't come along…

Who knows what might have happened to her? Who knows how she would have managed to go on living?

There was a time, after she lost Adam, when she didn't want to. When she even considered seeing to it that she wouldn't have to.

She knew from experience that the world would go on spinning without her; that in time, she'd be just ail other scandalous skeleton in the Remington family closet.

After all, she wouldn't be the first young Remington mother to commit suicide.

Thank God she backed away from the edge of that precipice. But she's never forgotten what it felt like to teeter there, not even caring that her life hung in the balance.

If anything ever happens to Royce, or to Lianna-

She curtails the chilling thought with an oft-repeated reminder that she's endured her share of sorrow.

Nothing will happen to her husband or daughter.

They're both safe.

There will be no more tragedy in Charlotte's life.

Nagging fear is a natural result of all that's happened to her, and to Royce.

She can let it consume her, or she can ignore it.

I've got to ignore it, she thinks resolutely, lifting her Remington chin with conviction.

"Where are we going?" Lianna asks Kevin Tinkston when they reach the fork of the plantation road.

From here, there are only two choices: go pretty much straight west toward the northernmost of the two causeways leading to the mainland, or veer to the left toward the island's commercial district down at the southernmost tip.

All that lies north and east of Oakgate, beyond acres of alligator-and rattlesnake-infested marshland, is a narrow strip of sea oat-covered dunes and the Atlantic Ocean.

But why head south? Kevin knows they can't risk being seen in public on the island, hanging around at the boardwalk T-shirt and surf shops, or the ice-cream place or cafe.

Which leaves the wide, miles-long stretch of sand along the southeastern coast.

She hasn't set foot back on that beach since that awful Labor Day weekend when Royce's son drowned. Though Theo was a stranger-and Lianna and her mother could never have known that his father would become a part of their lives-witnessing a tragic incident that echoed of her own family's worst nightmare left an indelible mark on her.

"Are we going to the beach?" she demands, trying to keep her voice from rising in panic.

"No."

T don't believe you."

Kevin turns his gaze away from the road just long enough to wink at her and drawl, "It's a surprise. You'll see."

Some surprise. He's probably taking her to his family's ramshackle house down on the southwest canal, where they're among a handful of year-round residents. Most of the others are fishermen and Northern retirees.

Lianna has yet to meet the Tinkstons and she isn't sure what, exactly, Kevin's parents do besides drink beer and squabble with each other and their sons, according to local gossip.

"Local gossip" being her friend Grace, whose family has a summer house out on the island. It was Grace who first had the crush on Kevin, and dragged Lianna to meet him at the Mobil station, where he was pumping gas. But it was Lianna he noticed.

That was in June and he's been her secret boyfriend ever since. Her friendship with Grace is officially over.