The Final Victim(29)

"Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's true. If you hadn't stayed on the island and married me, you would have eventually found your way back to college and finished your degree."

"Stop it That's not true!"

Yes, it is. You know it is. But it doesn't even matter. You never second-guessed your choice.

The sunny parking lot disappears behind a watery haze of tears. 'Jed, we'll go to Europe. Maybe next spring. We'll plan a trip."

He's silent.

Next spring.

Please let us have next spring.

And the one after that…

Please let us have time.

Heart pounding in dread, she pulls blindly into a parking spot and turns off the engine.

"Ready?" she asks-and instantly regrets it. What a foolish thing to ask.

He merely shrugs.

Slowly, hand in hand, the way they used to toddle down Achoco Beach as children, they walk toward the clinic to hear the doctor's verdict.

'"Bye," Lianna calls over her shoulder, bolting from the car, her own guilt, and mainly, her mother.

She half-expects Mom to take off as well, tires shrieking. She wouldn't blame her.

But the car remains, engine idling, as Lianna scurries up the walk leading to Casey's family's red brick Colonial. Why? Is Mom going to come after her to apologize, or yell at her some more? Or, uh-oh, is she suspicious?

Liana forces herself to turn and give a quick wave to show that everything is all right Looking into the bright sunlight, she can't see into the car. Which is fine with her.

Go on, Mom. Leave, would you? Just get out of here.

It isn't until Lianna has disappeared through the wrought iron side gate that leads along a shade-dappled path, and slammed it firmly behind her, that she hears the Lexus pull away.

Good riddance. Geez.

Dry-eyed again, thank goodness, she makes her way beneath a canopy of centuries-old trees toward the back of Casey's house.

It's peaceful here in the old-fashioned garden; the grounds as deserted as the house itself.

Birds sing from overhead branches. Fat bumblebees hum lazily above magenta hibiscus blossoms. A steady trickle of water flows into the little lily pond Casey's father built for her mother last Christmas. Lianna's steady footsteps crunch on the white gravel path. Then she hears something else… The slightest rustling from behind a blooming shrub.

Her heartbeat quickening, Lianna breaks into a run-toward, not away from, the sound.

Rounding a bend in the gravel path, she smiles.

Kevin is waiting here for her.

Just as he promised.

"It's good to see you again, Phyllida. You're looking lovely as always." 'Thank you." As Tyler Hawthorne ushers her into the conference room with a hale handshake, she can't help but think that her grandfather's attorney would be a casting agent's dream should a role call for a stately I Southern businessman. The elderly attorney comes complete with three-piece suit, well-tended thatch of white hair, and a booming accent thicker than peanut soup.

She hasn't seen him since her wedding day. He invited her to waltz, chatted charmingly and flirted harmlessly, then handed over an envelope that contained a card, with a sentimental, cliché-ridden rhyme, and a thousand-dollar check.

"I hear you and your husband have a little boy now. How are they?"

"Fine-they're at the beach today." She can't help but notice that Tyler seems oddly reluctant to look her in the eye.

Is it because this is official business, and not a social event?

Or because he's torn up over Grandaddy's death?

She doesn't even want to consider what other factor might have rendered him uncharacteristically reticent Not now. Not when financial salvation is as much within her grasp as Tyler Hawthorne's cold hand.

"Have a seat, won't you?" He releases his grip abruptly and turns to her brother, who's wearing, as usual, a custom-made suit, custom-made dress shirt with French cuffs, silk tie-and, today, the greenish pallor of I one who has had a few too many bourbons the night before.

"Gib, my boy, I see life is treating you well."

Is it Phyllida's imagination, or is there a hollow ring to Tyler's jovial words?

"Settled somewhere up North now, are you?"

"Boston. I passed the bar a while back."

"Congratulations. Which firm are you with?" An invisible crank tightens Gib's polite smile just a notch. "I haven't joined one yet. I'm still, uh, entertaining some offers."

"All in good time," is Tyler's response, after an awkward silence.

Maybe, Phyllida thinks, as she settles into one of the leather chairs at the conference table, he thinks we're under-achievers. Maybe he was expecting me to be a big movie star by now, and Gib to be a partner in some fancy firm.

Well, it doesn't matter what Tyler Hawthorne thinks of them. His role here isn't to judge Grandaddy's heirs, but to present them with Grandaddy's money.

She notices a limp in Tyler's gait as he walks to his own seat, and he winces visibly as he sits down.

He looks up and sees that she's watching him, so she politely asks, "Are you all right?"

"I will be. I was hurt in an accident a while ago." "What kind of accident?"

"I was in the crosswalk right out here on Drayton, in front of the building. It was raining, and a car came flying around the corner at top speed…" "Was it a young kid? They're the worst." "I have no idea. Whoever it was kept right on going. Either they didn't see me, or didn't care." "Probably a kid."