Blown Away (12 page)

Cari was still trying to pull herself together when Mike suddenly appeared.

“You’re doing great,” he said quietly, as he gave her a hug. “The ladies’ room is over here. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

Once again, he’d thought of everything. By the time Cari came out, she’d washed away the tracks of her tears and reapplied her lip gloss.

“Where’s your car?” Cari asked, as Mike helped her into the limousine.

“One of the employees is driving it to the church for me. We’ll ride in the limo to the church, then to the cemetery, then back to the church for the dinner, but the car will be on-site for when we’re ready to leave, okay?”

Mike slid into the seat beside her, then took her hand and held it all the way to the church. Without talking.

Just as a reminder that she wasn’t alone after all.

T
he funeral was a blur.

From the time Cari sat down in the pew to the beginning of the last song, she was aware of little save the three caskets at the altar. She kept wanting to scream—to demand someone stop this nightmare—to please let her wake up and find this had all been a bad dream. But it wasn’t happening.

Once she heard the minister mention her name, and as he did, someone in the congregation behind her began to weep—loudly. She knew it was a woman, but had no idea who. It was an odd thing to be sitting at one’s own funeral—to hear the litany of her life and accomplishments read aloud and know that people wept for her passing, which led to the thought of wondering what they would do when the news finally came out that she wasn’t dead after all, and that she’d let an entire town bury another in her place.

There was a part of her that felt sick all over again,
just thinking about the ramifications of what she’d done. Still, if she had it to do over, she didn’t think she would change a thing. She still needed to find out who Lance had murdered and what he had done with the body. Then she would be able to resurrect herself and get on with life.

When it came time for the viewing and her parents’ caskets were opened, Cari couldn’t bring herself to look at them again and hid behind the wide frame of her sunglasses. But it soon became apparent that nearly every living person left in Bordelaise had come to the services. The line of people filing by the caskets seemed endless, and she constantly felt the eyes of the entire town upon her. Surely someone was going to stop at any moment and recognize her—call her out for the pretender that she was. But it didn’t happen.

All she kept thinking was that the room was too hot. As the mourners moved past, there were a couple of times she thought she might faint. Shortly thereafter, as if someone had read her mind, the ceiling fans came on. While they cooled the air, they unfortunately also stirred the scents of the funeral flowers into a sickly-sweet conglomeration. Now her stomach roiled with nausea.

Cari took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm the sick feeling. Suddenly Mike’s hand was on her knee. She looked up. The sympathy on his face was her undoing. Her vision blurred, and she leaned back and closed her eyes, willing herself not to break into ugly sobs.

And again he seemed to sense her needs. When he handed her his handkerchief, she took it gladly and held it to her nose. The fresh scent of clean cotton shifted her focus from the too-sweet aroma of flowers, and her stomach settled.

Later, they headed for the cemetery. The service there was short—little more than a prayer—but this time when people filed past the caskets they stopped to shake her hand, or mutter a “so sorry for your loss” before quickly moving on. To her horror, she recognized someone from her publishing company. It was the first time she realized how far the news had traveled. She could just imagine the headlines. Bestselling author Carolina North, dead at twenty-nine. A promising career over before it had barely begun.

Then, all of a sudden, Mike’s voice was in her ear.

“Come,
cher
…it’s time to go back to the church.” He had her on her feet and was leading her away before she knew what was happening. By the time he had her seated inside the limo, she was shaking.

“I don’t know if I can get through the dinner,” Cari said.

He frowned. Her eyes were too bright, her face too pale. She was in shock and just didn’t know it.

“We don’t have to stay,” he said, as the driver began the trip back into Bordelaise.

Cari leaned back, then closed her eyes, savoring the momentary quiet.

“I think I have to,” she finally answered. “At least
until after they serve the meal. Everyone has gone to so much trouble.”

Mike took her hand, but he didn’t answer. It wasn’t his decision. All he knew was he wasn’t abandoning her.

Cari threaded her fingers through his and held on as if he were her only lifeline to sanity.

She still had the meal to get through, and at least one more face-to-face with Joe and Lance. But the way she figured it, if they hadn’t seen through her disguise before, they wouldn’t now.

When they arrived at the church, Mike escorted her inside. Within seconds, she was swept away to a seat of honor and plied with all manner of food and drink, as if filling her stomach would somehow fill the emptiness left by her family’s passing.

There was an empty chair to her right, which became the “visitor’s chair.” No sooner would she get a bite into her mouth than someone would slide into the chair to express their regrets. She had no recourse but to listen to the mourners regaling her with their memories of her parents and of her. It was the first time she realized how many of her classmates took pride in having grown up with someone who’d become a successful author. She kept thinking, if they only knew, it was she who felt blessed to have so many good friends.

The people came and went as she picked at her food—never staying long—never overstepping the
boundaries of propriety. And always she was aware of Mike’s quiet presence at her side and was thankful for the times he jumped into the conversation just in time to save her from losing her fragile composure.

The dinner was all but over before Cari noticed Police Chief Hershel Porter’s sudden arrival. She saw him pause in the doorway, as if searching the crowd. When he saw her, he headed straight for her.

“Miss Blackwell, I just wanted to come pay my respects. Your family were real good friends of mine. They’re going to be sorely missed.”

“Thank you,” Cari said, then introduced Mike. “Chief, this is Michael Boudreaux of Baton Rouge. Mike…Hershel Porter, parish police chief.”

Hershel smiled as he shook Mike’s hand. “Nice to meet you. It’s kind of you to see after Miss Blackwell, today.”

“It has been my honor,” Mike said, and realized that he meant it. “I know how difficult this is for her. I lost my own parents a few years back.” Then he walked a few feet away, to give the two of them some privacy.

“Yeah, sometimes life just hauls off and hits us square in the face, doesn’t it?” Hershel said, then patted Cari on the shoulder. “Anything we can do for you, you just ask.”

“Thank you,” she said, then added, “I had no idea how badly Bordelaise had been hit until we arrived today.”

Hershel grimaced. “Yeah. It’s been a tough go. We’ve still got some people missing.”

“Oh, no,” Cari said. “I had no idea. Who?” Then she felt obligated to add, lest he think it odd she would inquire about people in a town where she didn’t live, “I’ve spent so many summers here, and I know a lot of people.”

“I remember,” Hershel said. “Well, we still can’t find Katie Earle’s little boy, Bobby. They were at church. The kids were outside on the playground when the tornado siren went off. No one has seen him since they began ushering them inside to get to the church basement. Katie said the little guy was real scared of thunder and lightning, so it makes no sense that he wouldn’t have gone in with the others. We’re just not sure if his absence is due to the tornado or a parental abduction. Katie and her husband, J.R., have been separated for a couple of months, and we haven’t been able to locate him, either. We also had four prisoners in the jail when it was hit, and they’re still unaccounted for.”

Cari knew Katie and J.R. well, and she didn’t think J.R. would do anything like abducting his own son and scaring Katie like this. Then she remembered what Lance had done and realized she would never have thought that possible, either. She couldn’t even envision how terrifying it must be not to know where your child was. As for the missing prisoners, it was daunting to think they might be on the loose and still in the neighborhood.

“I do remember the Earles. I can only imagine how frightened Katie is. When you next speak to her, tell her I’ll keep her in my prayers.”

Hershel Porter nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be glad to. Now, I’ve bothered you long enough. Besides, I need to find Lance and Joe Morgan. Are they still here?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Cari said. “At least they were earlier.”

“We got a man from Chicago who’s gone missing, too. The last his people heard from him, he was on his way to Morgan’s Reach. We just found a black rental car in a stand of trees out on the back side of their property. It’s the same make and model he was driving. As soon as we verify the tag number, we’ll be one step closer to figuring out what happened to him, although it’s sure looking like the fellow was a victim of the storm, too.”

Cari’s heart started to pound. That was the car she’d seen at the makeshift grave site. It belonged to the dead man she’d seen—she was sure of it. The urge to tell Chief Porter what she knew was overwhelming. But after all the lies, and without a body to back up her story, she knew what would happen.

“How awful,” she muttered instead.

“Yeah, well, I better go find the Morgans. You take care now, you hear?”

Cari nodded, but the moment Hershel left, she went looking for Mike.

“Mike. The police chief just told me that they
found a rental car on Morgan’s Reach that had been damaged by the storm. I’ll bet anything it belongs to the dead man.”

Mike frowned. “Why didn’t you tell him? They already know someone is missing.”

“Think about it, Mike. I’ve just buried my parents. I’ve laid out this elaborate scheme to hide my identity. If I start spouting off about seeing Lance with a dead man without a body to back up my story, they’ll think I’m off my rocker!”

“I didn’t think about it like that,” he said, and then lowered his voice so they couldn’t be overheard. “I have an idea. As soon as the doctor releases you, how about we come back down here, say…on the pretext of cleaning up at your farm? I own a pretty nice self-contained motor home. We can live in it out on the property while we see what we can find. I even know someone who owns a cadaver dog. If we don’t find anything within a day or so, I can give him a call.”

“You would do that…for me?”

“That and a lot more,” he said softly.

The underlying promise of a relationship kept popping up in Cari’s mind, although she told herself to forget it. He was way out of her league, so she quickly changed the subject.

“A cadaver dog? Is that like a bloodhound?”

“Sort of,” Mike said. “But these dogs are trained to find bodies…like in natural disasters. They used them in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, and
after earthquakes…even in New York City after 9-11. The dogs home in on the odor of decay.”

“Even if they’re buried?”

“So I’m told,” he said.

Cari sighed. “Once more, I will be indebted to you.”

Mike eyed her pale cheeks and shadowed eyes, and then slipped a hand beneath her elbow. “Here,
cher
…I think you need to sit down.”

He settled her back into her chair, but he was still concerned. She’d shed her sunglasses for the time being. Her eyes were red-rimmed and teary, and she looked like she had a headache. She still held a wad of tissues in one hand; she’d used them off and on for the past hour to wipe her nose, and whatever makeup she’d had on was gone. The sling she was wearing had slipped sideways. If she didn’t have a crick in her neck yet, she was going to. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and carry her off into some quiet place where nothing could ever hurt her again. He wanted to kiss her and make love—

He sighed.

“For the record, you don’t owe me anything,” he said softly, and scooted a glass of iced tea closer to her hand.

As he’d hoped, she reached for it and took a drink, and the moment passed.

Finally there was a lull in the number of people coming to pay their respects. Mike noticed that,
while she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites, her glass was empty.

“I’m going to get you some more iced tea,” Mike said, and got up.

“Nothing to eat,” Cari whispered. “It will come up. I swear.”

He frowned, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and strode off toward one of the tables that had been set up for drinks.

“Finally! A moment to have you to myself,” Lance said, and slid right into the seat Mike had just vacated, then set a dessert plate with a cinnamon roll in front of her. “I know how you love sweets, so I brought you a bite of dessert.”

Cari flinched. She might have known he wasn’t through playing the grieving ex-fiancé. She’d seen him working the room, garnering sympathy as if it was his due. But when he slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug, she jerked, then pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, then made herself remember to slow down her speech to fit Susan’s normal rhythm.

Lance frowned. “Damn, Susie, I’m just trying to offer my sympathies.”

“Look at me, Lance! I hurt. Everywhere. And you just squeezed all the hurts together,” she fired back, and as she said it, she realized she was telling the truth.

Lance’s antagonism quickly faded. “Oh. Sorry. I
wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, then picked up a fork and cut off a bite of cinnamon roll. “Here. Try a bite. It’s delicious.”

Cari turned away from the fork he held to her lips. “I’m allergic to cinnamon,” she muttered.

“Oh. Sorry,” Lance said, and pushed the roll away. Then he leaned closer. “I thought the reason you pushed me away was because you were pissed at me.”

Cari cast a sideways glance at him, then frowned. “Why would you think something like that?”

He shrugged. “You know…Cari and I used to be engaged. I figured she…well, you know…we broke it off.”

“Get real, Lance. I’m bruised, not stupid. I know all about it. Cari dumped you for cheating on her.”

“It was a mistake,” Lance said. “One I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But that’s the past. You and I need to stick together now.”

Cari knew she probably looked as dumbfounded as she felt, but she couldn’t help it. What the hell was Lance playing at? Was he honestly trying to pick her up? At a funeral? Oh. My. God.

“Why would you think something like that?” she asked.

Lance reached for her hand. “Because we’re both on our own now. Our parents are gone. Like me, you’re alone in the world.”