House of the Rising Sun (32 page)

Interesting that her knowing that was so important to him. “Over and done with. Got it.”

He seemed a little miffed that was the extent of her reaction. “Also, I wanted to make sure we’re set for tomorrow, because I’m going with you. I got the money out of the house, too.”

“Good. I called before I followed—anyway, I left a message on Cuthridge’s voice mail that we need to meet and he called back to confirm for first thing.” She slipped her gloves back on out of habit. “What did you do with the money if it’s not here?”

“Probably better you don’t know.”

She nodded. “I’m okay with that. Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Slow down, speedy. You think we’re not going to talk about what happened tonight?”

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “I get it. You like me. I might… like you, too. A little. But I really don’t want to talk about feelings and—”

“I meant about you following me. You never promised not to do it again.”

“Oh.” Heat flooded her face so fast, she knew she must be a wicked shade of embarrassed. She studied something on the opposite side of the room.

“It’s nice to know you might like me, too.” She could tell he
was grinning without even looking at his stupid, handsome face. “Especially since we’re living together.”

She spun back around. “We’re not living
together
. We’re living in the same house. Those are two very different things.”

He nodded. “Okay. Got it. Different things.”

“You are so infuriating.”

“So I’ve heard.” He hesitated, leaning his hip against the footboard of the bed. “Was your case public knowledge?”

She almost wept with joy at the change of subject. “Sure, if you did the research.”

“So the amount of your fine, that would be public record, too?”

“I guess. Why?”

He heaved out a long sigh and scratched his head. “I’m probably reading something into nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

She hopped off the bed to stand in front of him. “Tell me. If I’m going to stay here, if we’re going to co-own this house together, I don’t want there to be secrets between us. I’ve told you a lot about me. You can at least tell me whatever’s rolling around in your head.” She stripped off one glove and wiggled her fingers at him. “Or I can find out myself.”

He looked taken aback. “You’d do that?”

She sighed and yanked the glove back on. “Actually, I wouldn’t. And I suck at bluffing. Just tell me, okay?”

He straightened. “The box contained exactly eight hundred and fifty thousand.”

She shrugged. “That proves that Branzino’s been watching me for a while. He must have thought I’d be an easy mark with that kind of debt hanging over my head.”

“Maybe.” Augustine looked unconvinced. “I believe he deliberately set you up so he could swoop in and save you. Your mother’s death was just—for him—a happy coincidence. The house was an unexpected bonus.”

She gave that a moment to sink in, then shook her head. “But if my mother had something on him, enough to keep him away from me all these years, why set this all up while she’s still alive?” The realization of her own words struck her as they left her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She grabbed for the bedpost and sat down, her stomach on the verge of rebelling. It was all she could do to whisper, “He killed her.”

“No, vampires killed her. I was there.”

She lifted her head enough to look at him. “But you still don’t know who let those vampires in, do you?”

He slowly shook his head and cursed softly. “Before your mother died, she said ‘After me’ and I didn’t understand what she meant. I tried to explain to her I was to blame. The vampires had come after me because I’d killed the leader’s girlfriend. What if she was right? What if they’d told her she was their target?” He put his hand over his eyes for a second, then dropped it and paced to the other side of the room. “If he’s behind getting those vampires access to the city, if he deliberately did this to target your mother but meant for me to take the blame… it’s one of the most complex murder plans I’ve ever encountered.”

“What did you mean about the house being a bonus?”

He stopped pacing. “Any fae convicted of a felony is forbidden to own property in a Haven city. I have a feeling Branzino has a record. Owning the house through you would give him a foothold here to branch out into whatever it is he really does.” He swore in a language she didn’t understand. “Of course he wanted Olivia dead. He needed you to own this house so he could use it. The chaos created by the vampires was only icing on the cake. A way to distract us from his real purpose.”

The world seemed to narrow down around her. “He was using me from the very beginning, wasn’t he? Using me to kill my own mother.” A chill swept her as her brain went a little foggy.

“You okay?” Augustine sat beside her on the bed. “You went dead white, like you were going to pass out. You’re not responsible for any of this.”

She nodded, mouth dry as dust. “My mother was right about him this whole time. He’s no good. Not one tiny bit. And now I
know
he was my anonymous client.”

“Are you sure?”

“He might have hired someone, but it was still him. I feel it. As sure as I’m breathing.” Her fingers shook as she pushed hair out of her face. “No wonder I couldn’t track him down. He’s got his son in on this.” She looked up at Augustine, feeling like she might be sick. “What kind of father tries to use his daughter like that?”

“One who doesn’t deserve the title father.”

“If he comes back here…” The thought caused her to shudder.

“He won’t,” Augustine said. “I’m going to make sure of that.”

C
uthridge nodded as he listened to Harlow explain her situation. Augustine expected the man to balk at the amount, but he didn’t flinch one bit. Maybe years of being a lawyer had inured him to these kinds of things. When Harlow was done, she sat back, twisting her gloved fingers together.

Augustine spoke before Cuthridge could. “By my presence here today, I hope you understand I’m completely in favor of the estate paying this fine and securing Harlow’s freedom. In fact, I believe there should be enough to cover the fine in the Cayman account.”

“There is.” Cuthridge cut his eyes at Augustine, a sure sign that information was not widely known. “Miss Goodwin, do you have the paperwork concerning your case?”

She dug into her purse. “I do.” She handed it over.

Cuthridge perused the documents, a soft “Um-hmm” here and there. Finally, he put them down. “I’ll have this taken care of immediately.”

She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath. “You will? Just like that? I thought the money was only for keeping up the estate?”

“As the executor of the trust, the accounting of how the money is spent is up to me. The upkeep of the estate is very important, but taking care of the needs of the estate owners is even greater.” Cuthridge smiled, softening his professorial demeanor. “I work for the trust, Miss Goodwin, and so,
in essence, I work for you. It is my job to protect you and Mr. Robelais from these types of things whenever I can. In fact, had this issue come to light sooner, I feel certain your mother would have provided you with counsel beyond that which the state did.”

“You mean you?”

He laughed. “Oh no, I’m not that kind of lawyer. But I assure you, I know some.” He tucked the paperwork to the side. “I should add, Miss Goodwin, that the trust considers this an investment in you.”

She went serious again. “Meaning?”

“Meaning there should be a return on that investment. In plain language, I hope you will stay in New Orleans and look after your mother’s estate instead of returning to Boston. It is not a requirement of having the fine paid, but something for you to seriously consider.”

She nodded. “I understand and I’m okay with that. I plan on staying here.”

“Very good.” Cuthridge nodded, looking a bit more relaxed. “Mr. Robelais, if I could have a moment of your time before you leave?”

Harlow stood. “I’ll give you two a minute. Thank you, Mr. Cuthridge.”

“My pleasure, Miss Goodwin.” Cuthridge waited until the door was closed to speak to Augustine. “How did you know about the Caymans?”

“Long story short and in all confidentiality, Olivia made it through to the fae plane. It’s taken her a while to… figure things out over there, but I spoke to her last night and she told me to tell you this thing with Harlow needs to be taken care of immediately.”

“Of course, I’ll do it today.” He removed his glasses and used his tie to wipe the lenses. “I’m very happy to hear we are not
entirely without Ms. Goodwin. I take it her daughter doesn’t know?”

“Not yet and Olivia wants to keep it that way.”

Cuthridge slipped his glasses back on. “I am all about confidentiality, Mr. Robelais. Tell Olivia everything will be taken care of.”

“I will. And I appreciate it. I’m also going to need access to her safety-deposit box. She said you could provide that.”

“I’ll take care of that, too.”

“Thank you.” Augustine left the office, collecting Harlow as he left. On the way to the car, his com cell beeped in his head. “I have a call,” he explained to her, unlocking the vehicle. She nodded as she got in and he stepped off to the side. “Answer.”

“Augustine.”

“Fenton. Good to hear from you. I have a few things to go over.”

“Save them until you get to the address I just sent you. We have a situation.”

By the sound of Fenton’s voice, it wasn’t anything good. “Such as?”

“Just get here.”

Harlow was ecstatic that taking care of her fine had been so easy, but Augustine hadn’t been in much of a mood to talk on the ride home. He’d dropped her off and sped away, something about Guardian business. She went inside, her head spinning with the sense of release and what that meant for her life now.

Like staying in New Orleans and trying to make a new start for herself. One where everything she did was aboveboard and completely legit. “Lally,” she called out. “Where are you?”

“In the library, child.”

Harlow ran into the room. Lally was wiping the books down with a soft cloth. Harlow couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “It’s done. The fine’s taken care of.”

“Praise the Lord, that is good news!” Lally grinned right back. “I think that calls for a big supper, don’t you? Maybe cake.”

Harlow nodded. “Oh, yes. Chocolate. Please?”

Lally laughed and went back to cleaning off the books. “You got it. I got a chocolate cola cake recipe my
tante
give me that is to die for.”

“What’s a
tante
?”

Lally smiled. “Means my aunt.”

Harlow leaned against one of the built-in bookcases. “I have a lot to learn about this place.”

Lally slid the book she’d finished with back onto the shelf, then turned to Harlow again. “This means you’re staying, right? And you ain’t selling the house?”

Harlow went still for a moment, her smile leveling out. “I… am. Staying, that is. And no, I’m not selling the house.” She bit her lip. “The whole thing scares me witless, but the truth is, with my mother’s estate paying the fine I feel like I owe it to her to finally do something she wants.” And not just for legal reasons. It was time to make some changes in her life.

Relief lit Lally’s face. “You got to want it, too, child.”

“I do. A fresh start would do me good and with Branzino around, I feel safer here with you and Augustine than in Boston on my own.”

“That man is no good.”

“No, he’s not.” Harlow knew she’d be doing more digging on him now that Augustine had helped her connect Branzino as the client that had gotten her in trouble. “If it’s okay with you, I thought maybe I’d have a look at the rest of the house. Maybe my mother’s room.”

Lally tsked. “You don’t have to ask if that’s okay with me. It’s your house. You go on and explore all you want. Your mama’s room is on the second floor, same as yours. She took the elevator these last few years. Easier on the old bones.”

“Thanks.” A hint of sadness crept over Harlow at the thought of her mother growing old in this house and Harlow not being a part of those years. That regret would be with her the rest of her life. “I’m sorry we didn’t get off to a better start. I’m glad you were here for my mother. That she had such a good friend with her.”
When I wasn’t.
But those words seemed implied.

Lally flicked the cleaning cloth at her. “Go on, now, before I go all weepy.” But she smiled and nodded like she understood.

Harlow climbed the stairs to the second floor and found her mother’s room on the first try. The moment she entered, the fragrance of her mother’s lemony perfume greeted her, making her feel like Olivia might walk in the room at any moment. The master suite was impressively furnished, although a bit overdone for Harlow’s tastes. Olivia’s had always run toward the dramatic, so the ivory, green, and purple that swathed the space was no surprise.

Mementos of the movies she’d worked on were scattered throughout; pictures from some of the sets or Olivia in costume, shadow boxes containing small props, the Oscar she’d won for supporting actress for the last role she’d taken before retiring.

Harlow’s gloved fingers traced the gleaming statuette. There was so much she’d missed out on in her mother’s life. Harlow opened a set of double doors and walked into the most amazing closet she’d ever seen.

The air was thick with the scent of her mother’s perfume here, but there was comfort in that lemony tang. She walked past the racks of clothes, her fingers trailing over the gorgeous fabrics. The back of the closet held the fanciest dresses of all.
Harlow stood there for a moment, admiring the gowns covered in crystals and feathers and sequins. “Ooo… shiny.”

A soft breeze slid past her bare ankles.

She glanced down. How was there a breeze in here? Lally’s statement about the house being haunted echoed through her head, but she refused to believe what she’d felt had anything to do with a ghost. She crouched down to look. One of the gowns had feathers down the skirt. They fluttered just enough to make her even more curious. She dug her hands between the dresses and shoved them back.

A seam ran up the wall. She followed it with her fingers. It outlined the shape of a small door. There was no handle, so she pushed on it. Nothing. Not even a creak. She pushed the clothes farther apart and leaned her ear against the door. The breeze she’d felt made a whispering noise on the other side. One that almost sounded like words. She stood back and stared.

As much as the space intrigued her, she supposed it wasn’t that unusual. Old houses all had secret rooms, right? And they were drafty. Didn’t mean there was anything in there. Probably just led into the closet in the next room. Plus, she’d come up here for more than just looking at her mother’s room. Harlow wanted to try a little experiment. She spread the dresses back over the space, covering the hidden door, then left the closet to look around for an item that would work—and found something perfect on her mother’s dresser.

A handful of costume jewelry was strewn over the velvet-draped surface, but in the center sat a large fleur-de-lis marcasite pendant on a chain, just the sort of sparkly bit her mother would like. Harlow picked it up and sat in the ivory silk club chair in the suite’s sitting area.

She laid it on her lap, then pulled her gloves off. Staying in New Orleans meant accepting who she was. No more running from being fae, something that was almost impossible in a place
where everyone already knew that’s what she was. If she could use her gifts to help, then they couldn’t be bad, could they? The only way for her to get really comfortable with her heritage was to learn to control—and use—these gifts she’d been born with.

Starting with the one that had crippled her.

She eased her bare fingers under the pendant, the cool metal warming as it touched her skin. Like a switch had been flipped, images began rushing through her mind. The scent of her mother’s perfume intensified and distant laughter filled her ears. She dropped the necklace and took a few deep breaths. She could do this. She
would
do this.

Slipping her fingers beneath the pendant, she closed her eyes and mentally clamped down the same way she did when entering a fragged database.

This time the images slowed and the overwhelming scent of lemon faded to a tolerable level. The laughter seemed to gain clarity, enough that Harlow knew it belonged to Olivia. The first image that came through clearly was of Augustine, his horns as large as they’d been the night of
Nokturnos
, handing over a box. A feeling of joy followed, then a sense of loss that Harlow understood because she was the one who’d caused it.

She dropped the pendant, opened her eyes and sat back. The pendant had been a gift from him to Olivia. Harlow knew it with an undeniable certainty. The gesture had given her mother great happiness but had also reminded Olivia of Harlow’s absence in her life.

Harlow tipped her head back and took a deep breath in an effort to stem the tears threatening to spill. A few leaked anyway, trickling down into her hairline. Is this what it was going to take to master this gift? Feeling things so deeply that it was like experiencing them as the person they belonged to? Having her emotions shredded?

She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes before putting her
gloves back on, then she picked up the pendant and stared at how it caught the light. No wonder her mother had loved it.

Olivia had always seen the good in people, the bright side of every situation, the silver lining in every storm. Harlow shook her head, the lump in her throat almost impossible to swallow around. She’d never be her mother, but maybe, if she really worked at it, she could become a fraction of the person her mother had wanted her to. The
fae
her mother had wanted her to be.

Harlow fastened the chain around her neck. The metal warmed to her skin. She sat, letting the emotions from the piece run through her until there was nothing left. At least this way, she could feel like a part of her mother was still with her.

It was the only way Harlow could think of to make peace with the past.