Sam had not been so accepting. His adolescence consisted of five long years of rebellion. Fistfights in the school yard. Sneaking cigarettes in the bathroom. Loitering with the rough-and-tumble crowd that hung out in Monument Square. There’d been no mansions in his childhood.
He started the car and drove away. The investigation was just beginning; he and Gillis had a long night ahead of them. There was still the minister to interview, as well as the florist, the best man, the matron of honor, and the groom.
Most of all, the groom.
Dr. Robert Bledsoe, after all, was the one who’d called off the wedding. His decision, by accident or design, had saved the lives of dozens of people. That struck Sam as just a little bit too fortunate. Had Bledsoe received some kind of warning? Had he been the intended target?
Was that the real reason he’d left his bride at the altar?
Nina Cormier’s image came vividly back to mind. Hers wasn’t a face he’d be likely to forget. It was more than just those big brown eyes, that kissable mouth. It was her pride that impressed him the most. The sort of pride that kept her chin up, her jaw squared, even as the tears were falling. For that he admired her. No whining, no self-pity. The woman had been humiliated, abandoned, and almost blown to smithereens. Yet she’d had enough spunk left to give Sam an occasional what-for. He found that both irritating and amusing. For a woman who’d probably grown up with everything handed to her on a silver platter, she was a tough little survivor.
Today she’d been handed a heaping dish of crow, and she’d eaten it just fine, thank you. Without a whimper.
Surprising, surprising woman.
He could hardly wait to hear what Dr. Robert Bledsoe had to say about her.
IT WAS AFTER five o’clock when Nina finally emerged from her mother’s guest bedroom. Calm, composed, she was now wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She’d left her wedding dress hanging in the closet; she didn’t even want to look at it again. Too many bad memories had attached themselves like burrs to the fabric.
Downstairs she found her mother sitting alone in the living room, nursing a highball. Detective Navarro was gone. Lydia raised the drink to her lips, and by the clinking of ice cubes in the glass, Nina could tell that Lydia’s hands were shaking.
“Mother?” said Nina.
At the sound of her daughter’s voice, Lydia’s head jerked up. “You startled me.”
“I think I’ll be leaving now. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Lydia gave a shudder. Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “How about you?”
“I’ll be okay. I just need some time. Away from Robert.”
Mother and daughter looked at each other for a moment, neither one speaking, neither one knowing what to say. This was the way things had always been between them. Nina had grown up hungry for affection. Her mother had always been too self-absorbed to grant it. And this was the result: the silence of two women who scarcely knew or understood each other. The distance between them couldn’t be measured by years, but by universes.
Nina watched her mother take another deep swallow of her drink. “How did it go?” she asked. “With you and that detective?”
Lydia shrugged. “What’s there to say? He asked questions, I answered them.”
“Did he tell you anything? About who might have done it?”
“No. He was tight as a clam. Not much in the way of charm.”
Nina couldn’t disagree. She’d known ice cubes that were warmer than Sam Navarro. But then, the man was just doing his job. He wasn’t paid to be charming.
“You can stay for dinner, if you’d like,” said Lydia.
“Why don’t you? I’ll have the cook—”
“That’s all right, Mother. Thank you, anyway.”
Lydia looked up at her. “It’s because of Edward, isn’t it?”
“No, Mother. Really.”
“That’s why you hardly ever visit. Because of him. I wish you could get to like him.” Lydia sighed and looked down at her drink. “He’s been very good to me, very generous. You have to grant him that much.”
When Nina thought of her stepfather, generous was not the first adjective that came to mind. No, ruthless would be the word she’d choose. Ruthless and controlling. She didn’t want to talk about Edward Warrenton.
She turned and started toward the door. “I have to get home and pack my things. Since it’s obvious I’ll be moving out.”
“Couldn’t you and Robert patch things up somehow?”
“After today?” Nina shook her head.
“If you just tried harder? Maybe it’s something you could talk about. Something you could change.”
“Mother. Please.”
Lydia sank back. “Anyway,” she said, “you are invited to dinner. For what it’s worth.”
“Maybe some other time,” Nina said softly. “Bye, Mother.”
She heard no answer as she walked out the front door.
Her Honda was parked at the side of the house, where she’d left it that morning. The morning of what should have been her wedding. How proudly Lydia had smiled at her as they’d sat together in the limousine! It was the way a mother should look at her daughter. The way Lydia never had before.
And probably never would again.
That ride to the church, the smiles, the laughter, seemed a lifetime away. She started the Honda and pulled out of her mother’s driveway.
In a daze she drove south, toward Hunts Point. Toward Robert’s house. What had been their house. The road was winding, and she was functioning on automatic pilot, steering without thought along the curves. What if Robert hadn’t really left town? she thought. What if he’s home? What would they say to each other?
Try: goodbye.
She gripped the steering wheel and thought of all the things she’d like to tell him. All the ways she felt used and betrayed. A whole year kept going through her head. One whole bloody year of my life.
Only as she swung past Smugglers Cove did she happen to glance in the rearview mirror. A black Ford was behind her. The same Ford that had been there a few miles back, near Delano Park. At any other time, she would have thought nothing of it. But today, after the possibilities Detective Navarro had raised…
She shook off a vague sense of uneasiness and kept driving. She turned onto Ocean House Drive.
The Ford did too. There was no reason for alarm. Ocean House Drive was, after all, a main road in the neighborhood. Another driver might very well have reason to turn onto it as well.
Just to ease her anxiety, she took the left turnoff, toward Peabbles Point. It was a lonely road, not heavily traveled. Here’s where she and the Ford would surely part company.
The Ford took the same turnoff.
Now she was getting frightened.
She pressed the accelerator. The Honda gained speed. At fifty miles per hour, she knew she was taking the curves too fast, but she was determined to lose the Ford. Only she wasn’t losing him. He had sped up, too. In fact, he was gaining on her.
With a sudden burst of speed, the Ford roared up right beside her. They were neck and neck, taking the curves in parallel.
He’s trying to run me off the road! she thought.
She glanced sideways, but all she could see through the other car’s tinted window was the driver’s silhouette. Why are you doing this? she wanted to scream at him. Why?