Текст книги "Death by Request"

Автор книги: Jaden Skye

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

“Is Konrad keeping something from us?” Mattheus asked directly,

“It’s certainly possible,” Dr. Padden replied non-commitally, “he always has a thousand things up his sleeve. Why should it be any different now?”

Chapter 12

While Mattheus was interviewing Dr. Padden Cindy could only think of one thing, getting in touch with Alana and speaking to her immediately. Cindy called the number she had for Alana and let the phone ring and ring. No answer. There was no way to leave a message either. Alana’s in hiding, Cindy realized. There was no choice then but to go to Alana’s home directly and see if Cindy could surprise her there. Alana lived south of the hospital, just barely commuting distance. It shouldn’t take too long to get there.

Cindy quickly got ready to leave. The taxi she took wove round and round, across circular roads, along pools of water and through old streets dotted with small homes crammed close to one another. Cindy wondered why Alana would be living in this kind of neighborhood. Todd had described her as a beautiful, charming, compelling woman. Something didn’t add up.

Cindy had the taxi stop a few blocks away from Alana’s place. She didn’t want to create a stir riding up to her home in a taxi. It would be better to walk there simply under the shade of the trees. The more Cindy walked, the more unsavory the area seemed. The streets were dark and narrow, with little sun coming through. What if Alana wasn’t home now? What if she’d left town? It made sense that Alana might skip out if she was in trouble.

Cindy found the address to the house easily. It was like all the others, small, a bit wobbly and made of old wood. Cindy walked to the front entrance, stood there a moment and rang the bell. To her delight, she quickly heard footsteps coming to the door. Then someone flung it open.

“Come in, Blair,” a throaty voice responded. Obviously, the person at home was expecting someone else.

Cindy stepped inside nevertheless. The room had low ceilings, small windows and smelled of old wine. A young woman stood there, her back turned to Cindy.

“Excuse me,” said Cindy, as a young, beautiful Jamaica woman suddenly flung herself around and stared.

“What’s going on?” the young woman burst out. She wore a thin, cotton dress and had wild hair that was uncombed. Cindy wondered if she were slightly drunk. “Who are you?” the young woman demanded, totally taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

“Alana?” asked Cindy, responding to her immediately.

“Yeah, I’m Alana, who are you?” Alana zeroed in to get a better look at Cindy.

“I’m Cindy Blaine of C and M investigations,” Cindy answered in a forthright manner. There was such a sense of disarray about this young woman that this was certainly no time for playing games.

“Investigations?” Alana’s voice rose a notch. “Who are you investigating, me?”

“No, not you,” Cindy tried to soothe her. “I’m investigating Tara’s death.”

“What’s there to investigate? She’s gone,” Alana shrugged.

“I’m trying to find out if Tara’s husband Owen was involved,” Cindy replied quickly. “He’s being held for the crime.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Alana quieted down. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“A terrible shame,” Cindy responded, “everything about the case is.”

“What’s a shame, the accident or the coma?” Alana’s eyes narrowed and she actually seemed interested in what Cindy had to say.

“I mean it’s a shame for everyone involved in the case,” Cindy answered slowly. “It has to have taken a terrible toll.”

“You can say that again,” Alana began to relax. “And Tara was a good person, too.”

That remark surprised Cindy. “Why would you say that? You never got to know her really,” Cindy replied.

Alana took exception to that. She stood up taller, pushed her hair off her face and walked around the room with a sudden grace and agility, almost looking like a beautiful, wild bird.

“People think you don’t know a person if you don’t talk to them, or do things together,” Alana was edgy. “But none of that is true. When you’re with someone every day, when you take care of them, wash their body, move them in the bed, you feel who they are, believe me. Words can just get in the way sometimes, cover up the truth. Ever notice that?”

“I have,” said Cindy, touched by Alana’s response. She could feel Alana’s love for Tara. Alana was nothing at all like Cindy had expected. Nothing about this case was. None of it fit.

“You sound like a wonderful nurse,” Cindy commented.

Despite herself Alana smiled. “Not better than anyone else,” she murmured.

“But you love what you do,” Cindy persisted.

“Sure, I love what I do, or I wouldn’t do it,” Alana answered heartily. “The patients feel it too when you don’t care about them.”

Cindy never thought of it that way.

“You look like someone who loves what she does too,” Alana perked up. “Look how you tracked me down right to my house.”

It was a smart observation and Cindy felt good about it. “I do love what I do,” Cindy admitted, glad someone understood.

“Well, it’s not often you meet someone who cares,” Alana smiled, unwinding. “How in hell did you find me here?”

Cindy side stepped the question. “This is not exactly where I would have expected you to live,” she answered lightly instead.

Once again Alana took exception. “Why not? This is where I come from, raised a few blocks away. If the neighborhood was good enough for my parents, it’s good enough for me.” She looked at Cindy proudly.

“Are your parents alive?” Cindy was curious.

“No, my father died when I was young and my mother died a few years ago. I moved back after my mother died,” Alana said, swiftly.

Cindy wondered where Alana moved back from, and where the other hospital she’d worked at was located.

“Yeah, this is a poor neighborhood,” Alana went on, encouraged by Cindy’s genuine interest. “So what? There’s plenty of poverty and unemployment everywhere in Jamaica. And, what goes with that? Crime. Poor people are afraid to go out of their neighborhoods and kids have trouble getting to school because it’s not safe. But I feel safe here. I like it. It’s where I come from.”

“You’re proud of Jamaica,” Cindy commented, impressed.

“Bet your life, I am,” said Alana. “We’re doing our best to handle our problems. There are programs educating the poor and matching them up with employers. There are also programs giving poor people cash in exchange for sending their kids to school and making sure they have medical care. That’s important, even though most medical care down here leaves plenty to be desired!”

It was inspiring to feel Alana’s pride in the world she came from. Cindy also found it curious that despite her identification with the poor, Alana worked in one of the most exclusive hospitals on the island.

“You have quite a fabulous job yourself,” Cindy commented. “It must have been hard to get it.”

Alana face lit up and Cindy could suddenly see the beauty and strength in it.

“Very hard,” Alana confessed, “everyone wanted it. I got lucky. Who knows why?”

More than luck, thought Cindy. “Who hired you?” she asked. Even though she didn’t want to, Cindy had to keep probing.

Alana brushed the question off. “I went through a bunch of interviews. Why?”

Cindy didn’t want to bring up Konrad at the moment, fearing it would put Alana off. She didn’t want to question whether the job she’d landed had been in exchange for sex. So far the relationship between Cindy and Alana had been friendly and easy, and Cindy wanted to keep it that way.

“Hey, come in and sit down,” Alana suddenly realized that Cindy was still standing at the door. “Let me get you some coffee.”

Cindy was surprised at how comfortable she felt with Alana. “Sure, thanks,” Cindy agreed, following Alana deeper into her small house and sitting at a round table near the kitchen. “Sorry to barge in like this. I tried to find you at the hospital,” Cindy continued, “but you hadn’t come in.”

Alana was in the narrow kitchen now, pouring coffee and didn’t respond. Cindy waited for her to return to the table before repeating her question.

“Why aren’t you at work today, Alana?” Cindy asked as she took the large mug of coffee and started to drink.

Alana sat down opposite Cindy and began to drink some coffee as well.

“It’s a bummer losing a patient,” Alana finally said. “After all, Tara and I were together for two months. It got to me. I felt lousy, depressed, still do. I needed to take a few days to myself.”

“I can imagine,” Cindy murmured softly, enjoying the delicious, creamy coffee Alana had prepared. “You didn’t expect her to die?”

“Sure I expected it, sooner or later, I guess,” Alana said quietly. “You both expect it and hope it won’t happen. But usually you don’t work with a patient for so long.”

“Did you think Tara was recovering during that time?” Cindy asked quietly.

“That’s the funny thing about patients in a coma,” Alana was quick on the uptake. “You never know. One day you think they are, the next day you have your doubts.”

“Were you surprised that someone stepped in and killed her?” Cindy turned a corner and put it directly then.

Alana flared up. “I wouldn’t call it killing her,” she objected. “I would say everyone wanted Tara to make it, but obviously someone couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Who?” asked Cindy fascinated.

Alana ignored the question, “And, I wouldn’t call it killing her,” she went on, “because who could say she was even really here in the first place? She went back and forth.”

“Back and forth from where?” A long, slow chill crept up Cindy’s spine.

Alana stared at Cindy. “Back and forth to wherever we go to when our time here is over. When patients are very sick or in a coma, they go back and forth. Everyone knows it, and I see it all the time,” said Alana. “It’s no big deal. When patients can speak, sometimes they’ll tell you that their departed relatives are waiting to greet them when they leave. Some even tell you the day they’ll be leaving.”

Cindy’s stomach clenched and a flash of tears filled her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alana concerned.

“My sister just died,” Cindy said in a small voice. “She was murdered.”

“My God,” said Alana, “I’m so sorry,” and she extended her hand. “She’ll be back for you when your time comes, honey. Just be a little patient.”

Cindy quickly re-grouped, not wanting to take this off on another track. “Tell me more about Tara’s family, please. You were with them for a long time. Do you think one of them did it?”

“Anything is possible,” said Alana. “The father couldn’t stand to see her laying there like that, her mother wanted her to keep going. The sister and mother seemed pretty close, but the sister has a weird husband. He only came to visit once, didn’t want his wife spending so much time with her sister. I heard him say, let whatever happens, happen, Jenna. It’s no business of yours. Tara brought this on herself.”

“How did Tara bring it on herself?” Cindy asked startled.

“I think he meant because she lived such a rich, fancy, lifestyle, going out on private boats and stuff like that.”

“He was jealous?” asked Cindy.

“He was selfish,” Alana corrected her. “But who knows? I only saw him there once, as I told you.”

“How about Tara’s brother, Hank?” Cindy was eager to hear more.

“He’s a lost kind of guy,” Alana commented. “He sat in the corner most of the time and didn’t talk to anyone. You could see he loved Tara, though. Once when everyone was gone and Owen was in the bathroom, I saw Hank get up and go over to Tara’s bed and stroke her forehead gently. Then I heard him tell her he was there for her, and wouldn’t let anything bad happen.”

“Anything else you heard or saw?” asked Cindy. “Anything that made you wonder?”

Alana put her coffee mug down and dug her elbows onto the table. “The daughter,” she said softly then, almost inaudibly.

“Tell me,” Cindy breathed.

“Tara had a daughter, Loretta, who showed up out of the blue. No one in the family liked her, hardly bothered with her at all. When she came to the hospital she sulked around and wouldn’t say a word to Owen. Seems like she hated him.”

“I wonder why?” said Cindy.

“Actually,” Alana went on, her voice getting stronger. “I heard Loretta yelling at Tara the day she died. She was at the edge of Tara’s bed and yelling, wake up and look at me! I have something I want to tell you! She said that Tara had better do it fast because time was running through her fingers. It freaked Owen out. He jumped up, grabbed Loretta and escorted her right out of the room.”

“Awful,” Cindy breathed.

“I’ve seen stuff like that before,” Alana insisted. “Nerves get strung in a situation like this. Everyone in the family blames each other. Who knows what Loretta wanted to tell her mother?”

“She’s not a suspect though, is she? “Cindy questioned.

“No, of course not,” said Alana. “How can they possibly ever find out who actually put the stuff in Tara’s IV? They can’t. It’s all circumstantial. Let them suspect whoever they want. Owen will get off at trial. It’ll all die down. This is just a stupid circus.”

Cindy had to muster her strength to go forward with the next question. “How about you, Alana? I heard you were fired from another nursing job because of patient negligence.”

Alana looked stunned, as if Cindy had suddenly thrown cold water over her face. She jumped up, her eyes flashing. “How did you hear that? Who told you?”

“It doesn’t matter who,” said Cindy.

“It does to me,” Alana shot back. “It matters a lot. Did Konrad tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” Cindy assured her quickly.

“I don’t believe you, Konrad must have told you. Nobody else knows,” Alana seemed beside herself.

“I promise you, it wasn’t Konrad,” Cindy jumped up as well.

“You’re lying to me, lying! And I thought he loved me, I really did,” Alana started rubbing her face, wildly.

“I promise you I’m not lying,” Cindy yelled. “You’ve got to believe me. Just tell me what happened at your other job? Why were you fired?”

“That’s why you came down here, isn’t it? To find that out?” Alana peered strangely at Cindy. “You want to know if I did it?”

“I need to know more about what happened at your other job,” Cindy replied honestly.

“I was fired because I can’t make rich, white folks happy no matter how hard I try. I had an old lady who was a patient and did everything for her, from A to Z. It was old age that took her, but her family said it was all my fault. They turned on me. Everyone has to blame someone, don’t they?”

“How exactly did she die?” asked Cindy, suddenly frightened.

“She died of old age, I’m telling you,” Alana’s voice became loud and shrill. “Why can’t you believe me? Why didn’t they?”

“Did she die unexpectedly, as well?” Cindy had to check every angle.

“When does anyone ever expect a person to die? It’s always a shock,” Alana started to yell. “I just happened to be her main nurse, so I was fair game, get it?”

“Nobody in this hospital knows about it, do they?” asked Cindy.

“Except Konrad,” Alana howled. “He hired me despite it, he trusted me from the first minute we met. Why should anyone else know? Am I supposed to live my life under a black cloud?”

“I’m sorry,” said Cindy softly.

“What are you sorry about? That Konrad trusted me, or that the old woman died?” Alana began to quiet down.

“I’m sorry you’ve been in the middle of people dying strangely, over and over again,” Cindy replied.

“Well, don’t be so sorry,” Alana scrambled over to the side of the room and grabbed something laying on a table there. “Here, take this,” she returned and thrust a book into Cindy’s hand. “It’s Tara’s diary. I found it in her bag when she was brought in.”

Cindy felt shaken, looking at it. “You took Tara’s diary?”

“I took it a few days before she died,” said Alana. “I suddenly wanted to know more about her life, to keep her close to me.”

As Cindy took the diary her hands started trembling.

“You keep it now, you read it,” said Alana. “Read it before her cremation. It’s up to you to get justice for her now.”

Chapter 13

The first thing Cindy did when she returned to the hotel was to call Tara’s family to get Loretta’s number. Isabelle, Tara’s mother, immediately answered the phone.

“This is Cindy, from C and M Investigations,” Cindy quickly reminded her.

“Yes, of course,” Isabelle replied. “I remember you well. It’s good to hear from you. How can I be of help?”

“I actually want to speak to Tara’s daughter, Loretta,” Cindy responded. “Is she still around?”

“Yes, she’s waiting for the cremation before she goes home,” Isabelle replied, not pausing to ask how Cindy even knew about Loretta’s existence.

“May I come to the Villa to see her now?” Cindy asked.

“Loretta’s not staying at the Villa with us,” Isabelle sounded weary. “Naturally, we invited her, but she didn’t want to. That’s how she is. She’s staying at a motel.”

“Which one?” Cindy wanted to go there immediately.

“Loretta wouldn’t tell us,” Isabelle replied,” but I do have her phone number. You can reach her that way.”

Cindy was surprised that Isabelle was willing to give her Loretta’s number so quickly.

“Thank you,” said Cindy, pausing. “And how are you doing? It must be quite a shock for you to suddenly have your granddaughter here with you again.”

“My granddaughter?” Isabelle answered in a haze.

“Yes, it must be quite a shock to see her again,” Cindy repeated, realizing how jarring Loretta’s sudden re-appearance must have been.

“Everything is a shock for us these days,” Isabelle replied slowly. “Loretta hasn’t been part of our life for years and it’s hard to believe that Tara is gone.”

How well Cindy understood what Isabelle was feeling. She softened her tone. “Mattheus and I were surprised not to have met Loretta at the Villa along with the rest of the family,” she commented.

“I never thought of it,” Isabelle sounded slightly nervous now. “Why would you want to meet her? Are you and Mattheus coming to the cremation?”

“Yes, certainly,” Cindy replied.

“Good,” Isabelle replied, as if Cindy and Mattheus were responding to an invitation to a formal dinner party. “At the very least, you’ll see Loretta then.”

Cindy wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did Isabelle really wanted her to meet Loretta, did she expect Cindy to reach her by phone? Cindy wanted to call Loretta immediately and find out.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” Cindy said once again, wanting to hang up the phone. “Please accept my condolences.”

But Isabelle was not ready to end the conversation. “How are you doing with the case? “Anything new?” she went on.

“It’s too soon to say specifically,” Cindy remained vague.

“We’ve heard the police have developed new evidence against Owen,” Isabelle continued fitfully. “No one knows exactly what it is.”

Cindy hadn’t heard that, was startled. “I don’t know anything about it,” she replied, wondering if Owen knew.

“Will you keep us informed, please?” Isabelle asked, a desperate edge creeping into her tone. “No one that’s taking the time to keep the family informed.”

“Of course I will,” Cindy replied. “As soon as I have something definite and am able to share it with you, I will certainly call.”

“Thank you so much,” once again Isabelle sounded both weary and heartbroken.

Cindy hung up and immediately dialed the number she was given for Loretta. As with Alana, the phone rang and rang with no answer. There was no way to leave a message either. For a moment Cindy wondered if Isabelle had given her the right number. Was the family covering for her? And what possible new evidence could the police have against Owen? Why hadn’t they informed Cindy and Mattheus immediately?

Cindy hung up again and quickly called Mattheus, who was just leaving Dr. Padden’s office.

“Great to hear from you,” he replied, “how’s it going?”

“Too much to say over the phone,” breathed Cindy.

“Listen,” said Mattheus, “I need to check into the police station for an hour or so to do some more research. After that, how about meeting up for some rest and recreation? We’re about due.”

Cindy liked the idea, could use some time to unwind. “Perfect,” she agreed.

“If you like, we could meet at the dock, take a dinner cruise, go over things,” Mattheus suggested.

The idea suited Cindy perfectly. “Yes, let’s do it.”

“The next boat out is in two hours,” said Mattheus. “Meet me down at dock four then.”

*

Cindy was delighted to have a couple of hours before meeting Mattheus. It would give her just the right amount of time to sit down on the balcony and go through Tara’s diary. The idea of what she would find both fascinated and frightened Cindy as she felt as though she were invading Tara’s intimate privacy. But whatever she was feeling, this was a murder case and she had no choice but to plunge in.

Cindy went outside, stretched out on a lounge chair and opened the book gingerly. The first page was dated about six months ago. Cindy wondered if Tara had kept on-going diaries, was this just the latest of them? Cindy also wondered who might have access to earlier ones.

I am so grateful for everything, the first page started, in a light, lilting handwriting. Thank goodness we settled the arrangements with the orphanage and can proceed as we’d planned. As usual, Owen has been wonderful. I have no idea in the world what I would do without him. I tell him that over and over and he says he has no idea what he would do without me, as well. How blessed we are, truly.

Cindy was startled to read that. It was almost as if she were listening to a voice from beyond the grave. The diary had certainly arrived at the perfect moment to help dispel doubts about Owen anyone could have. Cindy felt strange about reading further, but had to. This diary could make the difference between Owen’s being found guilty or innocent.

The next few pages went over simple details of Tara’s life, her meetings, friends, daily routine. Obviously, she was busy from early morning to evening, taking care of thousands of details that applied to the orphanage and also making time for family, friends, yoga, swimming, and catering to Owen’s considerable needs and requests. Cindy’s eye stopped at a paragraph a few pages later that interested her.

Veronica mentions time and again that I fuss over Owen way too much. He’s not your child, Veronica keeps saying. That comment really hurts, and yesterday I told her so. She just answered that men like it better when their wives have some mystery about them. Even after years of marriage men still need to conquer and chase. Really? I said. I told Veronica that’s how she runs her marriage, but it’s not how I run mine. Veronica enjoys keeps Bill on edge, constantly wondering if she loves him. I would never, ever treat Owen like that.

Cindy gulped and read the paragraph again, thinking of her own relationship with Mattheus. She and Mattheus had created a pretty good balance, Cindy decided. She never thought of herself as catering to all his desires, or making him chase and conquer her, either. Tara’s life was different. Her world obviously revolved around Owen. Was there something intrinsically wrong with that? As she read Cindy wondered why Tara and Owen didn’t have any children of their own? She also wondered about what had happened between Tara and her daughter? Cindy kept reading.

I have to get those gifts for mom, Jenna and Hank, was sprawled on top of another page. I don’t want to go to dinner there again, empty handed. Let Owen fuss about it all he wants or say I’m too attached to my family. My family is his family too now. They’re his only family. He’s probably as attached to them as I am, just hides it, like any man.

Cindy didn’t want to read too much into that. It didn’t sound like a major source of contention between Owen and Tara, just something she mentioned in passing. Most couples had to work out how much time they spent with their extended families. Cindy personally never had to go through that struggle with Clint. He’d loved Ann, and Cindy’s mother had never been available. There had been some friction between Ann and Mattheus though, but now Cindy realized to her horror that the friction was over. Ann was gone. Cindy felt a deep pit in her stomach, thinking of who remained in her family and how distant she was from them all. Mattheus had become Cindy’s real family now.

There was no way Cindy could read the entire diary right now, nor did she have to. A great deal of it simply recorded simple events of the day. It was not relevant to what had happened to Tara, showed no sign of danger up ahead. Cindy browsed through the pages looking for some indication of conflict or concern, either with Owen or anyone else. Very little appeared. The only conflict Cindy found was in the exchanges between Tara and Veronica. Their relationship upset Tara and she talked about it quite a lot. When Cindy found mention of it, she stopped and read the entry carefully.

Veronica keeps saying that Owen is taking advantage of me, one page boldly stated. Nonsense, ridiculous!I’m beginning to think Veronica’s jealous of my relationship with Owen, that she can’t stand to see two people so happy together after all these years. I told her she can enjoy playing head games with Bill all she wants. Owen and I aren’t into that. That didn’t go over so well, either. Veronica said all guys need head games to keep things spiced up, that I’m a fool to think otherwise. I’m not sure how long I can keep this friendship going. It’s upsetting to hear Veronica’s stupid remarks. Does she enjoy playing head games with me, too? Why else would she say that if I don’t stop catering to Owen, he’ll find his excitement somewhere else? That’s a terrible thing to say and I told her so.

Cindy took a deep, stabbing breath. That comment was mean and uncalled for, Cindy agreed as she continued reading gingerly.

After Veronica said that, I had trouble sleeping that night. When Owen rolled over in bed and said he was tired, I started thinking all kinds of things. Was he sick of me? Was there someone else he wanted? I would never have thought those things if Veronica hadn’t put them into my head. When I told her never to say it again, she laughed and told me to open my eyes and look. It was obvious to her that Owen needed excitement. I said it was obvious to me that she needed plain common sense.

Cindy read that entry over and over. Was Veronica warning Tara of something that Tara refused to see? Tara obsessed about it for the next few pages.

I have to take what Veronica says with a grain of salt, Tara finally concluded. She’s been a good friend for years, since college. Why should I let this one nuttiness of hers spoil everything? Everyone tells me that Veronica loves me, and that she says this kind of thing about everyone’s husband. It’s Veronica’s problem, not mine, thank God.

There was no further mention of it after that. Obviously Tara worked it through, talking it over in her diary. As Cindy read she felt that Tara was basically kind and looked for the best in everyone. Cindy respected the person she was meeting through the diary. It also sounded as though Tara’s marriage was solid. There was no reason here to believe Owen had any motive to end his wife’s life.

Cindy got up, tucked the diary into her briefcase, and went into the bathroom to change to meet Mattheus at dock four. Rather than putting on slacks and a t-shirt, Cindy chose a lovely, lemon chiffon summer dress, fun earrings and open sandals to be ready for their refreshing dinner cruise.

*

The wind was blowing in Mattheus’s hair as he sat on the bench in front of the cruise ship, waiting for Cindy. She came up from behind, put her hands on his shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of his head, totally taking him by surprise.

He spun around delighted, looked at her and whistled. “Boy, don’t you look scrumptious,” he marveled.

Cindy was delighted by his response. There was still certainly enough excitement in their relationship without head games of any kind, Cindy noted. Veronica’s words had obviously hit a nerve, but Veronica was wrong. Men didn’t need to play games forever to keep things alive. Maybe boys did, but not men.

“Let’s get on the boat,” Mattheus said taking Cindy’s hand. “I’ve bought our tickets already; there were only a few left when I arrived.”

Cindy was grateful to be taking a break and walked up the plank close beside Mattheus excited to spend a romantic evening together. There would be music, dinner, dancing and a sail in the moonlight. What could be better?

The boat was almost full when Cindy and Mattheus boarded, music was playing, breezes were blowing in from the water and there was a sense of gaiety and fun.

“This was a great idea,” said Cindy as Mattheus put his arm around her.

“Let’s go up on the deck, walk a bit there, then sit down there and talk before dinner,” he said.

*

Cindy and Mattheus found a quiet spot on the top deck and she held onto the railing as the boat pulled out. It was a wonderful feeling leaving the shore behind, drifting out under the evening sky.

“You really look beautiful,” Mattheus whispered to Cindy as they stood side by side. “I’m thrilled to be here with you.”

“So am I,” Cindy murmured, as she turned her face up to his and they kissed for a long time, soothing both her heart and his.

“It’s different working on cases when we’re feeling like this,” said Mattheus, when they pulled apart.

“Totally,” Cindy agreed, feeling completely supported and nourished. It was wonderful to be able to take time away from the churning world and regroup together this way. But even as she was enjoying the moment, Veronica’s comments floated up in Cindy’s mind.

“You know I read the strangest comments from a friend of Tara’s,” Cindy said as the boat picked up speed and the wind blew more strongly in their faces.

“Really, what?” Mattheus was interested, “where did you read them?”

“In Tara’s diary,” Cindy breathed.

Mattheus looked startled. “How did you get that?” he asked.

“From Alana, Tara’s nurse,” said Cindy, “she gave me the diary at the end of our interview.”

“You finally went to see her?” Mattheus focused in.

“Yes,” said Cindy, “At the end of our talk, she shoved the diary in my hand. Alana took it from Tara’s bag a few days before she died. Alana told me that Tara had it with her when she checked into the hospital.”