Part 29 (2/2)
”Do you want to go riding again?”
”With Sher'f Doug?”
”Yes.”
His face brightened.
”Let's stop here,” she said as they came to a park with swings.
That would take his mind away from his father.
But for how long?
'NEW ORLEANS'.
Charles Rawson called his daughter.
She should be on his speed dial. But she wasn't. He didn't call her that much.
A pang of regret ran through him. They had never been close.
He loved her. Just as he loved his wife. But his love had never been enough for Marguerite. And he had feared rejection from his daughter as well. h.e.l.l, he hadn't known how to talk to either one of them.
He had never been good at relations.h.i.+ps. He'd always taken what he wanted, and now he looked at his life and saw what a failure it had been. Even his law career was crumbling. And that was the only thing he had left.
No one answered the phone.
His hand shook.
A friend in the police superintendent's office had called him to tell him of a murder. His daughter was a witness.
He recognized the name of the victim.
Meredith apparently had not taken his advice or paid any attention to his plea that she leave the past alone.
He knew how dangerous her crusade was.
He knew because there was blood on his hands.
He hurriedly left the office. Although it was late, some a.s.sociates were still working, as was his secretary.
”Go home, Virginia,” he said.
”But I have a few more letters....”
”Go home,” he said, more gently than he had ever spoken to her before, and he saw the surprise in his eyes. For some reason, that reaction hurt.
His car was suffocating inside. In seconds, the air-conditioning sent a blast of cool air through the interior. It did nothing to cool the anxiety that clutched at him as he drove to Meredith's home.
Nothing looked disturbed at the house that once was his mother's home. As always, it was as peaceful as its garden shaded by magnolia trees and colored by flowers.
He parked in the front and opened the gate, surprised to hear barking from within.
He rang the bell. Nothing. Rang again.
Then he saw Meredith peer outside before opening. Good.
Except being careful wouldn't help against a determined enemy. And there was no question she was making enemies. She had made herself a target.
The door opened, and she stood there, surprise in her eyes. The same kind of surprise that had been in his secretary's eyes.
Then he realized this was the first time he had visited her at this house. He'd always summoned her to his own.
”Father?” she said.
”Meredith. I heard about what happened earlier. I tried to call.”
”I was at Mrs. Starnes's house, talking to detectives,” she said. ”I just got home a while ago. I haven't had a chance to check messages.”
”Are you alone?”
”Except for Nicky,” she said, looking down at the dog next to her.
”I didn't know--”
”He's not mine,” she interrupted. ”He belongs--belonged--to the woman who was killed.”
He soaked in that information. ”May I come in?”
She stepped aside. ”Of course. I was just... surprised to see you.”
He realized how sad that was. It was, it seemed, a day for realizations.
He followed her inside.
”Can I get you some coffee? Or a drink?”
”A drink,” he said gratefully.
He accompanied her into the kitchen. The house was much more comfortable than he remembered. Victorian furniture had been replaced by sofas with plush cus.h.i.+ons. Fresh flowers filled vases but they weren't as carefully arranged as those at his home. Instead there was a profusion of clas.h.i.+ng colors that was somehow more appealing than the sedate pale blooms at his house.
He hesitated at the door of the kitchen as she opened a cabinet door. ”Scotch?” she asked.
He nodded. ”Straight.”
She poured some in a gla.s.s.
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