Part 37 (2/2)

She'd declined to say anything. He was her father, and as such she had loved him. She had admired him even if she had not actually liked him. Now she realized his life had been full of secrets. So had her mother's.

Secrets dangerous enough to kill for.

Still, she mourned him. She felt infinite sadness for the man who had told her his wife had never loved him. He had uttered the words with such despair. She was beginning to feel that both her parents had lived in a h.e.l.l of their own making.

But why?

So many questions. So few answers. All she could do now was mourn her father. She couldn't change the past. She could only try to understand it.

A hymn. ”Faith of Our Fathers.” She remembered when she had first heard that. Years ago when her mother had thought she should go to Sunday school and church. She had sat between them and felt the tension.

Images flitted through her head. Her father as a younger man. Even then he had been distant. Demanding perfection. She remembered his rare smile when she told him she'd been accepted into law school. There might even have been pride in his face at her law school graduation. She had relished that until she learned he had her life planned.

The last hymn. The coffin was carried out by six men in dark suits. She wondered if they knew him better than she did.

She had to endure the graveside service as well. She invited Mrs. Edwards, her father's housekeeper, to share the limousine with her, and this time she agreed.

Unexpectedly, the woman had tears in her eyes. Meredith felt guilty that she didn't have any of her own. Not now. They were locked inside.

She noted that the day was sunny. Not like those funerals in the films when the sky seemed to weep. When the group gathered at the graveside, she looked at every face. Most she knew. They came from the legal and political communities or were her mother's acquaintances.

Her stomach roiled as she wondered if one was a killer.

She tried to look into their eyes. But all she saw was sympathy.

When the service was over, she looked again for Gage. She knew detectives often attended the services of their victims. But the police department wasn't considering her father's death as a deliberate act.

She didn't see him. She had told him this was something she wanted to do on her own. She would be safe. Surrounded by people. And he needed to do his job.

She'd wanted to prove to herself that she could stand alone.

She realized she was fighting a losing battle. She needed him far more than she wanted to. The big question was whether those feelings were fueled by grief and her bewilderment about the violence swirling about her or by something deeper. Something more lasting.

After the graveside service, there was the reception at her parents' house. She had planned it there since her house was far too small for the crowd. She suffered through it, accepting condolences. Uttering words of thanks. All the time she watched for a tall, graceful detective with unruly blond hair and clear green eyes.

When he didn't appear, she made mental lists even as she urged more food on her guests.

She had to make an appointment to see her father's attorney and make decisions about his estate. He had named her trustee for the estate years ago. He hadn't thought his wife could handle it on her own.

First on her list, though, was that delayed visit to Memphis, to the neighbors of her great-aunt. Perhaps someone would remember a visit thirty-three years ago of a young girl with a big secret. With more information, she might find the doctor. And records.

The last guest left her parents' house. With grateful relief, she returned home and fed the dog. She took him for a walk, enjoying the uncomplicated companions.h.i.+p. Both Sarah and Becky had suggested coming over to keep her company, but she'd a.s.sured them she just needed rest.

She had Nicky. And the gun in her purse.

She also had things to do. Meredith had given Mrs. Edwards several days off with pay. She'd left immediately after the reception to stay with her sister for a few days.

Meredith knew she couldn't sleep. She had to do something. She invited Nicky into her car and drove back to her parents' house. It had been thoroughly cleaned by the caterers but she thought she heard the echoes of the people who were there just hours ago.

She would have to decide what to do with it. She didn't want to live there. Too many memories.

She pictured her mother and father in it, remembering all the times they had both been there. But not together. Rarely together.

The doorbell rang. Nicky barked loudly.

Another mourner. Perhaps a reporter. She thought about ignoring it, but Nicky was frantic. She looked outside.

Gage Gaynor's lanky form leaned against the outside wall. Another man was with him. She recognized him. He had swept her house for listening devices.

Relief flooded her. She opened the door.

Gage took one look at her face and pulled her into his arms. He held her for a moment, then stepped back and introduced the man with him.

”Hi. I wanted the house sweeped for bugs.”

”You think ...”

”Your telephone was bugged. I think it's entirely likely your father's might have been as well.”

She stepped back as the two men entered. She was silent as Gage's companion checked the phones, then swept the entire house for listening devices. Gage shook his head. ”Nothing.”

She was confused. ”Why me and not him? Why didn't they kill me but killed him?”

”Perhaps he told someone something they didn't want to hear.” He hesitated, then asked, ”No more mystery calls?”

”No. But then the phone hasn't stopped ringing. I finally turned it off.”

”You haven't noticed anyone watching you?”

She shook her head. She wished she wasn't so glad to see him.

”Good. A friend of mine has been keeping an eye on you. I'm glad to know he's good enough not to be spotted.”

Anger flashed through her for a second. He'd had no right. Then she realized how stupid that was. She would be a fool to allow pride to get in the way of safety. And he'd cared enough to see that she stayed safe. Some of the chill left her. ”Do you think they'll come after me again?”

”I think it depends on what you find. I think whoever did this is probably wary of too many bodies turning up. Hopefully, they'll think you are too distracted ... and too frightened to keep looking. I'm sure they know you're too smart not to have made the connection.”

”I'm not distracted.”

”I know, and that worries me.”

”Where were you today?” She pressed her lips together, hating that she had asked that question as if the answer mattered. As if she had the right to hear it.

”A floater turned up this week. Fingers were cut off. No head. Bullet in the heart. Looks like a mob hit. We've been trying to get an ID on him. The lieutenant scheduled a meeting on it. I didn't have a choice.” His gaze met hers and s.h.i.+fted. She suddenly realized he was holding something back.

Or was she just wary now of everyone?

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