Delaney's Shadow (49 page)

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Authors: Ingrid Weaver

Tags: #mobi, #Romantic Suspense, #Paranormal Romance, #Fiction, #Shadow, #epub

BOOK: Delaney's Shadow
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“That’s been true in rare cases,” McFadden said. “However, whether it’s true in Miss Graye’s case or not, she might benefit from sensory stimulation of any kind.”
“There’s still hope, then?”
“There’s always hope, Mrs. Graye.”
Delaney moved to her stepdaughter’s side as the doctor left the room. She took her hand. It was completely flaccid, proof of her condition, because she would have yanked it away if she’d been capable of it. With her hair loose around her shoulders and her face bare of makeup, she appeared softer, younger, nothing like the driven executive she’d been a week ago. “I wish I could reach her mind the way I can reach yours, Max.”
“Doesn’t work that way, does it?”
“No, but think of how much we could help her if it did.”
“You’re incredible.”
“Why?”
“You’re just so . . . good.”
She smiled. “Sometimes it pays to look on the bright side, you know. I was right about her. She didn’t try to run me down. All she did was try to be her father’s daughter.” She massaged Elizabeth’s limp hand. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Bethie. I want you to know that the man who did this to you is dead. He was the one responsible for the hit-and-run you were suspected of, although I never did want to believe you would want to hurt me that much. It turns out he wasn’t aiming for me anyway; he was aiming for Max. I mean John.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “Too bad I hadn’t seen it.”
“A very good friend of mine once told me there’s no explanation for evil.”
He trailed a kiss across her mind. It was a taste of what would come later.
Five days had passed since Virgil’s death. It was wrong to say the event had changed Max. He was the same man he’d always been, as she’d often said. The only difference was that he was learning to recognize it.
No, that wasn’t the only difference, she thought as he continued the mental caress. The nights since the first time they’d united themselves completely had brought one discovery after another. They’d only begun to explore the potential of their special bond. Max had been applying himself to the pleasurable aspects of it with impressive enthusiasm.
Her lips quirked. There were advantages to having a lover with a vivid imagination.
“Delaney, John. I’m glad I caught you.”
At Leo’s voice, she returned Elizabeth’s hand to the blanket and turned toward the doorway.
Leo bustled in, his ever-present briefcase tucked beneath his arm. “Congratulations, John. You’re officially a free man. The police have dropped the attempted murder charge.”
Max snorted. “Took them long enough.”
“That’s wonderful, Leo,” Delaney said.
“Detective Toffelmire insisted on processing the evidence first. It was overwhelming. The imprint of the belt that was taken from Mr. Budge’s body matched the mark on Miss Graye’s back perfectly. The police had been hoping to find that belt and her purse during their search.”
“Idiots,” Max muttered.
“Her rental car was found abandoned near the lake, along with her purse. Mr. Budge’s fingerprints were on both. They believe he did attack her on the assumption she was you, Delaney.”
“It still doesn’t make complete sense to me,” she said. “He wanted revenge against Max. Why go after anyone else?”
“He liked to hit women,” Max said.
“Actually, there could be more involved,” Leo said. “The preliminary autopsy reports indicate Mr. Budge’s cancer had spread to his brain. He may not have been completely sane.”
“He never was.”
“Budge’s fingerprints were also found on a fragment of glass that was collected from your driveway, John. He was responsible for the vandalism.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that out.”
“Unfortunately, Detective Toffelmire is remaining firm in his stance that the damage to the interior of your home during its search was accidental.”
“Naturally.”
“Do you think it might help if I offered to pay for the surgery to have his nose fixed?” Delaney asked.
Max laughed, but Leo shook his head. “Some things are better left alone.”
“Not always,” she said. “The past needs to be dealt with before we can move forward.”
Leo glanced past her to Elizabeth and cleared his throat. “About that . . .”
She waited, but he seemed hesitant to continue. “Leo, what is it?”
“I hope you will understand that I’ve always had your best interests at heart, Delaney. While my methods may have been harsh, everything I’ve done, I’ve done in the name of friendship.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve been—”
“Wait, please let me finish. I’ve admired your courage during your long climb back to health. I truly believed your amnesia had been a blessing. Your insistence on recovering your memories distressed me more than I can say.”
She opened her mouth to interrupt again but was stopped by Max’s mental tap against her lips. He looped his arm around her shoulders.
He’s choking on something. Let him spit it out.
Leo shifted his briefcase to both arms, holding it across his chest like a shield. “I’m sorry, Delaney. Elizabeth didn’t send you the photographs of Stanford; I did.”
She stiffened. “You
what
?”
“It was to discourage you from remembering and also to encourage you to initiate the countersuit. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I may have been overzealous in my efforts, and it may seem cruel in retrospect, but I believed it was for your own good.”
“For my own good? That’s ridiculous. It would have been kinder to simply tell me about Stanford’s affairs in the first place.”
“Protecting you from his infidelities wasn’t the main reason I didn’t want you to recover your memories. It was because of Elizabeth’s lawsuit.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was concerned you might remember something about the accident that would make defending you, ah, problematic.”
It took her a moment to grasp what he meant. “You thought she was right, didn’t you? From the beginning, you believed I
did
cause Stanford’s death.”
“I suspected there might be something more serious than your marital troubles that had caused your mind to block those memories. I didn’t want to know what it was. I didn’t want you to know, either, because then you would likely feel obligated to tell the authorities.”
She hesitated.
Max gave her another mental tap against her lips.
Don’t
.
“And as I’ve said before,” Leo continued, “certain things are best left alone.”
“When it comes to my husband’s death, I happen to agree with you.”
“Thank you, Delaney. I hope that means we can put this unpleasantness behind us.”
“Sending those photographs was more than unpleasant, Leo. It was horrible.”
“Please. You were willing to forgive your stepdaughter when you thought she might have done it, so I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“There’s no excuse . . .” She paused when she realized what she was about to say. She’d been willing to excuse everyone else. Leo was a loyal friend. He didn’t deserve to be condemened without a chance.
Don’t forgive him, Deedee.
He didn’t mean any harm, Max,
she sent back.
Everyone makes mistakes.
Come on, let me hit him for you. I hate lawyers.
Don’t you dare!
It would help him get rid of his guilt. I’d be doing him a favor. See how miserable he is?
This wasn’t funny, yet after everything else that she and Max had gone through, it did seem trivial. “It’s Elizabeth you should be apologizing to, Leo. No one deserves to be accused unfairly.”
“Yes, of course. I will. Thank you, Delaney. You’re an exceptional woman. I—” He stopped and glanced at Max. “Speaking of unfair accusations, I’ve begun the process of clearing your name, John. It will take time, but we do have the statements from the police who overheard your conversation with Budge. Combined with the other evidence, I believe we have cause for optimism.”
 
MAX WAS QUIET ON THE DRIVE HOME. THE DAMAGE THE police and Virgil had done to the house had been repaired days ago, yet faint traces of turpentine lingered in the air when he unlocked the door. The scent didn’t disturb Delaney, because it would always remind her of Max. He dropped his keys in the ceramic dish. That sound reminded her of him, too. In fact, practically everything made her think of him these days. That wasn’t surprising, since he had taken up residence in her heart.
Before he could move past the living room, she slid her arms around his waist and leaned back to look up at him. “You’re mulling about something. What’s going on?”
“Come upstairs, and I’ll show you.”
“Have you been thinking about what Leo said?”
“You guessed it.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I’m going to make sure the local newspapers carry the story, even if I need to buy the page space.”
“He wouldn’t want it made public.”
“I meant the review of your conviction, not his confession.”
“He didn’t confess. He took one look at me, and he chickened out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s in love with you.”
“Leo? No, we’re just friends.”
“No, take it from me, I know that expression. I feel it on my face whenever I look at you.”
She stared at him.
“Why do you seem so surprised? We don’t have any secrets. You’ve felt how I feel. You told me about it before I recognized it.”
“You’ve never said the words.”
“Sure. It still scares the shit out of me.”
“Why? You must know by now I’d never hurt you.”
He dropped his forehead against hers. “It’s because I don’t want to hurt you, Deedee. I’ve lived alone for too long. It’s taking a while for me to realize this isn’t a dream, that I wake up with you in my arms for real. I’m not used to being . . .”
Free?
she offered.
“Depends how you define
free
.”
“Give it a try. I’ve got all day. Actually, I’ve got the rest of my life.”
He smiled, swept her into his arms, and headed for the stairs. “I’d rather show you.”
She nestled against him, her body softening to welcome his. If he wanted to express himself through sex, she certainly wouldn’t object. He was right; she had already sensed what he’d felt.
He didn’t carry her into the bedroom. Instead, he went to his studio and stopped at his easel. “I finished it this morning. What do you think?”
The painting displayed on the easel was the portrait he’d done of her. Her features were the same as before. So were her scars. She was still posed in front of the cloud and the fire, but he’d painted one major addition.
She slid out of his embrace. She barely felt her feet touch the floor as she moved closer. Understanding spread through her even before he began to explain.
“Now, I don’t want you to accuse me of getting philosophical or turning all artsy or anything, but I figured something out. That background is split between good and evil like a lot of my stuff is. You’re in the middle because you represent the balance.”
She held her fingertips over the second figure he’d painted. “And this?”
“That’s your shadow.”
It wasn’t a shadow; it was Max. He placed himself behind her, his arms wrapped around her in an embrace that sheltered yet didn’t hide. They weren’t leaning on each other. They both stood straight and strong, braced to survive whatever fate might have in store for them. Their appearances were nothing alike. She was fair and he was dark. Her expression was open, his was cautious. She was as solid as sunshine and he swirled with energy like the wind, yet together they were complete.
He was with her. Within her. A part of her forever. It was a depiction of love that no words could equal.
It was the promise their hearts had made the day they had met.
Keep reading for a special preview of
Ingrid Weaver’s next romantic suspense novel
DREAM SHADOWS
 
Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
 
 
 
 
“ELIZABETH?”
She opened her eyes. The world was a blur. Her body was a mass of aches. Pain throbbed through her skull. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.
“Hey.” A hand settled on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She knew that voice. She squinted until the blur fused into a face. Large nose. Beard stubble on a square jaw. Eyes of amber that reached as deep as his music.

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