Blood And Bone (31 page)

“What’s wrong?” Des asked, closing the distance between them.

Ian hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s about Julia.”

Des’s heart rate kicked up. “Did you hear from her?”

“The police contacted Heddi this morning. They identified one of the skeletons Ms. Reynolds found.” Ian looked away, cleared his throat. When he met Des’s gaze, his eyes were watery. Des’s stomach slid to his feet, cold and oily. “It was Julia’s body.”

“No, it’s a mistake,” Des said, shaking his head. Vaguely, Shayne’s gentle touch against his back pierced his muddled thoughts. Without thinking, he reached back, took her hand in his and held on tightly. “She’s somewhere in the Caribbean. She called to tell me she was leaving.”

Ian stepped forward, clasped Des’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but there’s no mistake. The police had her DNA on file from the last time she’d disappeared. The other skeleton is likely Kevin. They never even made it out of Dark Water.”

Ian’s words barely penetrated the dull hum inside Des’s head. Julia couldn’t be dead. Yet on some level it actually made sense. So many months passing without hearing from her. And hadn’t a part of him always believed he’d come home to this very news? His stomach churned sickly. He let go of Shayne’s hand. “I’ve got to see Heddi. I need to know what’s happening, what’s being done.”

“Don’t go to Heddi,” Ian said quickly. “Come with me. I’m on my way to speak to the police now. They can probably answer your questions better than her, anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.” Des nodded slowly and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. He turned to Shayne, her expression stricken. “I have to go. Wait here, okay? The police still haven’t found Tic.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice raspy. Shayne watched Des leave with his uncle, and a dull ache squeezed her throat. A gulf had formed between them, a chasm growing wider by the moment. Six hours ago, he’d claimed to love her, and the words had filled her with panic. Perversely, she’d give anything to hear him say it again.

For Julia’s body to already be reduced to skeletal remains, she must have been down there a while. Probably since back in March, when everyone assumed she’d left for the islands. Shortly after agreeing to speak to Shayne. The significance of the timing hadn’t been lost on Shayne. Surely, it hadn’t been lost on Des either.

Did he blame her? Was he right to? Had she unknowingly been the catalyst for that poor girl’s death? She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. When she’d first toyed with writing about the Grey-Anderson murders all those months ago, the case had seemed so cut and dry, but nothing was what it seemed.

She blew out a sigh and went inside. Bigwig trotted down the stairs, meowing a loud greeting. Absently, she tossed her purse and keys onto the table, then poured dried food into one of his bowls and added fresh water to the other. He purred loudly as he gobbled his Kibbles, and she flopped into one of the kitchen chairs.

It didn’t make sense for Anderson to murder his stepdaughter after his release from prison—with or without Shayne’s book. He’d already confessed to the crime, served his time. But if someone else had killed Gwen and her son, the possibility Julia was a witness combined with renewed interest in the case could have left the real murderer threatened.

She stood, grabbed her purse and car keys, and started for the door. The idea that her actions had somehow brought about Julia’s death turned her stomach. She couldn’t sit back and wait to hear from Des. If Des couldn’t forgive her, she’d understand, but in the meantime, she could at least set him free.

Shayne drove up the long driveway to Heddra Grey’s Georgian manor. Surrounded by thick forest on all sides, the house looked out of place, as if it had been accidentally dropped into the middle of the woods. She tried to envision Des living within those austere walls, along with his traumatized sister, and couldn’t.

Shayne parked out front, slid from the car and strode across the flagstone to the door. She still hadn’t worked out how in the hell she was going to convince Mrs. Grey to see her. Hopefully, she’d come up with something in the next few minutes.

She pounded on the heavy oak and waited. After a minute, the door swung open and a short, stocky woman filled the opening.

“What is it?” the woman demanded. A dark blue uniform clung to her stout frame. She must work for the family. A maid or housekeeper, maybe.

Shayne squared her shoulders doing her best to appear both professional and authoritative. She wished she had changed out of her jeans and into something more professional before she’d left. “I’m here to see Heddra Grey.”

Deep grooves creased the woman’s broad forehead. Her thick eyebrows drew together until her tiny mud-brown eyes nearly vanished within the loose folds of her face.

“Mrs. Grey is not entertaining. Good day.”

She started to close the door, but Shayne darted forward and held it open with her forearm. “Where is she?”

“Step back, or I will have you removed.” The woman grunted, leaning hard on the door to close it in Shayne’s face. Hell, Shayne would never be able to convince this horrible little troll to let her in. With a deep breath, she pushed hard and slipped into the foyer.

“You can’t come in here,” the woman screeched, her eyes widening with an almost humorous mix of shock and outrage. “You’re trespassing.”

Shayne ignored her, hurrying down the hall and glancing into each room as she passed. Heddra had to be there somewhere. Instead, of chasing after her, the housekeeper-maid ran ahead of her calling for Hudson. Damn it, she’d have to hurry.

She found the old woman in a solarium at the back of the house. The late afternoon sun poured through the glass walls, casting a golden shimmer over everything in the room. Even the small wrinkled woman, smothered beneath layers of blankets on the chaise. Tiny, black eyes stared out from a heavily-lined face like those dolls made from shriveled apples.

This was Heddra Gray? Shayne stood stunned for a moment. She’d been expecting a veritable dragon woman, not the tiny, wrinkled Muppet before her. Coming face-to-face with the old woman was a little like finding out the monster in the closet was actually just clothes on a hanger. A bit of a letdown, really.

“The writer,” the old woman said, a sly smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “You’ve a lot more nerve than I gave you credit for.”

You have no idea. You’re about to see just how much you underestimated me.
“I hope you don’t mind my stopping by unannounced. May I sit down?”

“No.” That smile never wavered, but her eyes glinted like black glass. “I don’t see people without first inviting them, and I don’t entertain in this room.”

Shayne lowered herself into the chair next to the chaise, and shot the old woman a hard smile all her own. “I’m not looking to be entertained.”

Heddra’s lips thinned, she sat stiffly, obviously furious. “What are you looking for?”

Dark pleasure welled inside Shayne. She was getting to the old woman, and she liked it. “I came here to tell you the book is dead. I’m not going to be writing it.” Speaking the words out loud filled Shayne with a sense of relief. “You have no choice now, but to let Des go.”

“Did he romance you? Seduce you?” A feral smile split the old woman’s face, and she let out a low cackle. “I admit, I never considered Des would be able to play the role of seducer when he agreed to our arrangement, but I suppose there was little he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted.”

Shayne leaned over and took the woman’s hands in her own. She had to fight not to crush her brittle bones to dust.

“Oh, Heddi,” she said with a slight laugh. “We played you. Des didn’t tell you anything we didn’t want you to know.”

Heddra snatched her hands back. “You little bitch. Do you think you mean anything to me? You’re nothing. Now, leave.”

“Not quite yet.” Shayne flashed the woman a tight smile. “Before I go, I want the truth. I want to know why you murdered your daughter, and how you convinced Robert Anderson to confess.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Heddra leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Her hot breath stunk of sickness, and Shayne’s stomach lurched. “But if you put such slanderous lies in your book, I will destroy you.”

 
“I already told you, there’s no book, but I’ll be damned if you take this secret to your grave. Your grandson should know the truth about his father, you owe him that much.” And more. Shayne gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles ached, but she had to do something to keep from strangling the old bitch.

“Desmond knows the truth about his father already. Weak. Murdering. Trash.”

“How exactly did it happen? Did Hudson make a mistake while he was terrorizing Gwen and her family? Did he go too far? Or had you had enough of your daughter’s disloyalty and finally put her in her place?”

A mix of rage and pain flashed in those gleaming onyx eyes. “I never hurt my daughter. She was coming home. That bastard couldn’t bear the thought of my winning, so he killed her.”

The naked hate in the woman’s furious outburst gave Shayne pause. Was this what Des saw that made him doubt his grandmother’s involvement? The rage contorting her expression, the undisguised vehemence in her tone—all appeared genuine. Maybe Heddra Grey was telling the truth. Still, Shayne pushed on. She needed to know for certain. “How did you convince Robert to confess? Threaten Gwen’s daughter and his son?”

Heddi settled back in her chaise, her indifferent façade back in place, and let out a creaky chuckle. “You have a very active imagination. Perhaps you should consider transitioning into writing fiction.”

“How could you do it?” Shayne continued to probe, searching for a reaction. “Murder your own daughter, then spend the next twenty-five years mentally torturing Julia and Des?”

At the mention of his name Heddra smiled slowly and predatorily. A chill swept through Shayne like a February wind, despite the woman’s frailty.

“Is that where all of this righteous indignation comes from? I underestimated that boy. Not only did he stop you, but you actually believe giving up the book was your idea. How amusing.”

“I’m not writing this book because I don’t write about open murder cases. As far as I’m concerned, your daughter’s killer was never brought to justice. She sits in her sunroom all alone, waiting for her own death. Did you kill your granddaughter when you discovered she planned to speak to me? Were you worried the only living witness might reveal exactly what she saw that night? Or was stealing the money what finally made you eliminate Julia?”

Heddi let out an impatient huff. “What do you mean eliminate Julia? She’s down in the islands, doing God knows what. Though, she should be emerging soon.” Her voice took on wry tone. “That money won’t last forever.”

Shayne blinked. Heddi had no idea about the grisly discovery of her granddaughter. Could she have forgotten? She was old and ill, probably on a lot of painkillers. Maybe her mind was starting to slip.

“The bodies in the cistern of your daughter’s house,” Shayne said. “The police called this morning and told you one of the skeletons was Julia. You sent Ian to the station to find out what’s being done.”

Heddra cocked her head slightly, her nostrils flared. “Does that condescending tone of yours have anything to do with some misplaced belief I’m losing my mind?”

Heat stung Shayne’s cheeks. There was no way to answer the woman’s question without embarrassing them both so Shayne opted to ignore it. “Your son came to Des’s this afternoon. He said you told him Julia was dead.”

“I did no such thing.” Heddra tapped the rattan arm of her chaise, her bony finger thudding against the hollow wood. “Ian said that?”

Shayne nodded, her stomach sliding to her feet. Unease washed through her like an icy wave. Why would the man lie about his niece? Had he hoped to stop Des from helping with Shayne’s book? Or had his motives been far more sinister?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grey,” the little woman in the uniform said, panting in the doorway. “I can’t find Hudson anywhere. Shall I call the police and have her removed?”

“Did you page him, Deirdre?” the old woman snapped.

“Yes. Three times. He’s not answering.”

Shayne barely listened to the exchange between the two women. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what exactly, but she had to speak to Des. Either his sister was still alive, or Ian was the one who’d left her body in the cistern to rot.

The world could shift on a dime.

Des stared out the passenger window. The wall of trees sped past in a blur of green speckled with red and gold. The numbness encasing his brain was starting to dissolve like thin ice under a spring sun as his mind desperately tried to wrap around the idea his sister was dead. Sorrow, regret and relief swirled in his gut leaving him nauseous.

Relief? What the hell kind of person was he? Julia was his sister, for God’s sake. All he had left of his family. Still, he couldn’t shake the odd sense of peace washing over him. He didn’t have to wait for the other shoe to drop, because it already had. Julia was dead.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the cool glass. He’d failed her. All his efforts to protect her, to help her, didn’t matter. In the end, he’d lost the battle.

“I’m sorry, Des,” Ian said, his quiet voice thick with compassion. “For everything.”

Ian was sorry? If Des’s stomach hadn’t been churning sickly, if his chest didn’t ache the way it did, he might have laughed. Why the hell should Ian be sorry? What had happened to Julia hadn’t been his fault. He forced his eyes open, sat up and frowned. “I thought we were going into town?”

“We are,” Ian said, steering up the narrow drive between the thick mass of trees. “I need to make a quick stop. There’s a buyer interested in the Matheson place, and I’ll be showing it later this afternoon. I want to check if it’s clean and ready to be seen.”

The tiny cabin Shayne had rented appeared as the car emerged from the forest. Less than a week had passed since showing her this place. He’d been furious, and determined to protect Julia from her, when he’d found out who she really was. But Julia had been already dead, rotting in the same house she’d watched her mother and brother die in.