The Abduction of Mary Rose (32 page)

At the door, Naomi hugged him and could feel the slimness of his frame through his clothes. The paunch was gone, and his colour was good. She had a feeling he was going to be just fine. Better than fine, she'd venture. She walked him to the door and on opening it, saw the footstool near the telephone pole, smashed to bits, held together by material, legs askew.

"I'll always be grateful to whatever force made you drive by my house tonight."

"Like I said, I've been cruising your neighbourhood at all hours on pretty much a regular basis. But who knows? Other elements might have been at work. Since the heart attack, I've been rethinking a lot of things lately."

"Oh? Like what?"

"I have my own version of the 'white light' theory. Remind me to tell you about it sometime. Good night, Naomi."

"Good night, Sergeant."

Chapter Fifty

Naomi was more than prepared to go to trial to make sure Marcus Leeland went to prison, but it had proved unnecessary. Frank phoned and told her Leeland had pleaded guilty to the abduction and rape of Mary Rose. "They would never have nailed him for Norman Banks' murder, or Marie Davis', so you are directly responsible for getting this killer off the streets. He knew it was over. You can put a period to this whole thing now. You have closure."

Closure is an odd word. Because there wasn't really any closure for something like this. How could there be? Marcus Leeland's victims had died violently at his hands, leaving others to grieve the loss. But Naomi did feel a sense of relief and satisfaction knowing he would be in jail until he was a very old man, and would probably die in there. Mary Rose was finally getting the justice she deserved, and Leeland wouldn't be hurting anyone else.

She'd been right about Charlotte; she didn't hear from her again. As far as Edna was concerned, Naomi was satisfied to let her live with her own conscience. She no longer has the power to hurt me, to make me feel badly about myself. It was all the same to her if she never saw Edna again, and she knew Edna felt the same way. But she refused to let her past dictate her future. She was looking forward to a new chapter in her life. She still could hardly believe the phone call today. She was bursting with her exciting news and anxious for her guests to arrive.

The lasagna was just about done, the salad tossed and the table set. She could smell the good smell coming up from downstairs. Her guests would be here soon. She had thought with the weather so nice that a backyard barbecue might be fun, but somehow the occasion of a new beginning seemed to call for something a little more formal.

Besides, she'd promised Lisa that lasagna dinner.

She liked her reflection in the mirror. She'd splurged on a new mint-green, silk shirtdress, and Prada sandals with slim ankle straps. She lost a bit too much weight over the past weeks but it did the dress justice. The colour brought out the green of her eyes.

She did a little twirl, and the skirt flowed around her legs like water. With her hair falling to her shoulders, brushed to a sheen, she almost didn't recognize herself. She couldn't remember the last time she'd dressed up. She brushed on a little blush to enhance her cheekbones, a sweep of mascara, a touch of cranberry mist to her lips. A dab of perfume behind her ears.

She fastened the pendant around her neck. The talisman meant to keep Mary Rose safe. It failed, but it had followed a killer through the years to his eventual capture. Evil can seem more powerful than good sometimes. But she refused to believe that. Evil destroys. Good builds.

The pendant went nicely with the dress, and with her hair loose. Like it belonged.

The doorbell rang downstairs and she gave herself a final check in the mirror, as nervous as a teenager on her first date. Then she hurried from the room, hesitated in the bedroom doorway and looked back at Thomas' photo on the night table. At the young man with his kind face, who looked so young. And who was no longer even in the world. Crazy or not, she had bonded with him, a young man in a photo. His smile told her she looked very nice in the new dress, and that he was proud of her. She gazed at him a moment longer, smiled and said, "Thanks, Daddy," and quietly closed the door.

She couldn't deny the electricity that swept through her when she opened the door to Eric Grant, rendering her suddenly shy. He looked so handsome in a blue, open-necked shirt and light grey slacks and jacket, holding a lovely bouquet of wildflowers and a bottle of wine. He smelled wonderful too, musky with just a hint of lime. Not bad for a Viking, she mused.

"What's so funny?" he asked, smiling at her, handing her his offerings.

"I'm just happy you're here." Looking into his eyes, she knew that he was more than a little glad to see her, too.

"You look even more gorgeous than I remember," he told her. "And I didn't think that was possible."

She practically floated through the evening. Her lasagna had never turned out better, and the Caesar salad with thick slices of garlic bread completed the meal. Except for the insanely good chocolate mousse with real whipped cream, which Lisa had insisted on bringing. She looked lovely in a blue linen dress and pearls. She was positively glowing and it was easy to see why. Graham Nelson couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, nor she him. The irony wasn't lost on Naomi. Love was in the air.

 
The summer bouquet of flowers made a lovely centrepiece on the white linen tablecloth. Her mother's silverware glittered, and the glasses of red wine glowed ruby red in the reflected candlelight. Classical music floated softly from the sound system. The evening was all she'd hoped it would be, and more. Not so bad for a novice, she thought, admiring both the table and the people seated around it, laughing, talking, and eating.

Frank had brought a friend, a nice woman he'd met recently, a retired teacher, petite and a bit of a chatterbox. So different from her mother, at least on the surface. Mom would have been pleased for Frank that he'd met someone he found companionable. Maybe the loneliness had got too much after he'd had to put Sam to sleep.

The conversation flowed as easily as the wine, and had turned to Eric's writing. Lisa was praising his book to the table at large. Laura, Frank's friend, added her own rave review, along with some insightful comments on his handling of the material, revealing the teacher she had been for over thirty years. Eric was sweet and modest in his response, but obviously pleased as he thanked them for their kind words.

Every so often she would look across at him, and he'd be looking at her, a grin playing at the corners of his very nice mouth, desire in his blue eyes that stirred her own blood. That certain shyness that came across in his photo on the back cover of his book was there too.

She read the book finally, and could only add her praise to Lisa's. She had been moved by his depth and sensitivity. Though he'd lived through a hellish childhood, never once did she detect any note of self-pity coming off those pages, yet his pain was palpable, even through the humor he used to mask it.

Graham made a joke and Lisa laughed, maybe a little more boisterously than the joke warranted. Naomi caught Eric's eye and he gave her a knowing smile.

Lisa noticed the exchange and blushed. "So what book are you narrating presently, honey?" she asked, turning the attention away from herself and giving Naomi the in she was hoping for to share her good news.

"I won't be narrating novels for awhile," she said. "Earlier today, I got a call from the university offering me a job. Well, it's more than a job, really, at least to me."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Graham (whom she still thought of as Sergeant Nelson) smiled, as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "You teaching a course?"

"No. Researchers plan to create a volume of Mi'kmaq stories that will be made available to the public, and benefit future generations. "Enid Bernard, a Mi'kmaq teacher," she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice, "has joined up with other researchers and over the next several years, they plan to record conversations with those fluent in the Mi'kmaq language. The interviews with elders will focus on what past life was like for First Nations' peoples. Some stories are handed down, some presently lived. Legends will be recorded, even recipes and old methods of healing. Anyway, I've been asked to narrate those stories in English."

There was enthusiastic congratulations around the table. Frank raised his glass in a toast, and the others followed. "To the future," he said. "To the future," they all said, clinked their glasses together, and drank the wine.

"You're the perfect one to do this," Lisa said, beaming at her. "I'm so thrilled for you. They're lucky to have you."

"Thanks. But I'm the lucky one. To be a part of this project." Naomi had never meant anything more. It felt like her destiny. In fact, this whole night, this very moment, felt destined. She was eager to embrace her roots, to make them a part of her, to become complete. Of course there was another side of her too, the side that was related to the Leelands. She couldn't ignore that reality. But she had no interest in exploring it. As far as Naomi was concerned, Marcus Leeland had chosen the life he lived. At some point there was a first time for him to make a decision over good and evil, and he chose evil. And then he chose it again. And again. More and more he became what he did, and like an eclipse of the sun, the darker part of him soon blocked out the light, until only the darkness remained.

Edna had been questioned by the police, but she held to her lie that she found the pendant on the beach. She could not admit to having once dated Marcus Leeland, and said as much right to Frank's face, even while knowing he knew the truth. Whatever happened back then, it would remain her secret. But secrets can eat at your soul, and have a way of unearthing themselves eventually

Naomi preferred to live in the light. She had much to be thankful for.

Sitting here at what had been her mother's dining table, now hers, so many emotions swept through her it was hard to pin one down. She wished her mother was here to share in her happiness, to meet her friends, to meet Eric, but who's to say she wasn't. She could imagine children sitting around this table one day. A real family.

Her family.

She no longer felt the pressing urgency of Mary Rose's presence, and knew there would be no more disturbing dreams. Mary Rose could rest now.

And so can I
, she thought.
So can I
.

"Would anyone like more wine?" she asked around the table.

 
The End

Praise for Joan Hall Hovey's novels

NIGHT CORRIDOR

"From the sinister beginning to the heated climax, I could not put the novel down.

… elegantly written and reads with ease. Exquisite descriptions bring images to life...

I highly recommend "Night Corridor" not only for those who like gripping mystery, but also for those who enjoy excellent writing."
Mila Komarnsky, author of Wretched Land

"Will Scare you sane…
Alfred Hitchcock
and
Stephen King
come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a
Class by herself!. …strongly recommended!"
J.D. Michael Phelps, co-author of My Fugitive, David Janssen.

"…another winner. I highly recommend it to any lover of suspense, mystery, romance, or thriller. You'll not only race through this book, but clamor for more works by this talented and polished author.
Aaron Paul Lazar, author of Healey's Cave
-
Midwest Book Reviews

 

"...The mystery and suspense in this novel is outstanding, truly top notch, in the vein of Mary Higgins Clark, but—dare I say—even better?
-
In the Library

 

"…intricately plotted and will surprise even the most devoted mystery and suspense reader... Gripping Suspense!"
Sandy Heptinstall - Whispering Winds Reviews

 

"...Danger shimmers throughout the novel. You walk down the darkened streets with Caroline, afraid for her. You wake up in the middle of the night when she does, hearing the same faint noises she hears, afraid for her... She cannot seem to escape danger no matter how careful she is.

 

And you cannot stop reading…"
Beth Anderson, author of Raven Talks Back

 

 

CHILL WATERS

 

"…a stunning, multi-layered, modern-day gothic, told with the unforgettable style and grace of a true master of suspense…"
—Rendezvous Magazine

 

"…a chilling hold-your-breath-as you-turn-the-pages novel of such depth and credibility, it's hard to remember that it's fiction and won't be headlined in the daily news…"
—Evelyn Gale, All About Murder Reviews.

 

"…a well-written suspense that will have you locking doors, turning on all the lights…"
— Hattie Boyd, Scribes World

 

"…as good a thriller as I have ever read…a superb tale of terror and suspense that puts her right up there with the likes of Sandford and Patterson…"

—
Ingrid Taylor for Small Press Review

 

"…Fans of Mary Higgins Clark will enjoy this author! I was on the edge of my seat the entire time …Great story…"
Detra Fitch, Huntress Book Reviews

 

A winner!! With her usual ability, the talented author has caught the sense of menace and carried it throughout…a taut, chilling tale...Highly recommended."

—Anne K. Edwards, BookReviews.net

 

"…a taut thriller that combines well-drawn vivid characters with an engaging plot? …a magnetically likeable heroine…Rachael's transformation from walking wounded to feisty survivour will leave you cheering."
—Kristin Johnson, Myshelf.com

 

"Joan Hall Hovey clearly takes her place among today's contemporary writers as this page-turner can compete with any mystery novel on the shelves…"
—Linda Hersey, Fredericton Gleaner.

 

NOWHERE TO HIDE—EPPIE AWARD WINNER

 

"…will keep readers holding their breath until the very end…"
—In the library review, Melissa Parcel

 

"This one is a chiller—you won't be able to put it down—guaranteed!"
—

Rendezvous Magazine

 

"If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide…"
—Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews

 

"…Not since Silence of the Lambs have I slept with my lights on. Buy it! Read it! (But not in a house by yourself)."
—JD Masters

"…will scare the wits out of you…an exciting work starring a brave yet vulnerable heroine."
— Harriet Klausner

 

"…a thriller release from the pen of the very talented writer, Joan Hall Hovey, who once again demonstrates her ever-increasing skill at designing tales of psychological suspense and terror."
—
Jill M. Smith – Rave Reviews

 

"Wow! Riveting from the prologue to the hair-raising conclusion. Highly Recommended."
—
Cindy Penn, Wordweaving.com

 

"…Joan Hall Hovey is a mistress at description and in bringing characters alive…a chiller of a book…"
—
Shirley Truax, Ivy Quill Reviews

 

"…a taut, edge of the seat thriller…certain to inspire readers who love the thriller genre to demand more from this writer."
—
Patti Nunn—Charlotte Austin Review

 

"…Start reading this book on a Saturday morning. That way, you'll have all weekend to read it, since you won't want to put it down."
—
Martine G. Bates Inscriptions magazine

 

"Extremely well structured, good plot, impossible to put down until the last page is reached."
—
BASTULLI MYSTERY LIBRARY

 

"…highly professional thriller…more than a series of twists and turns…"
—
E.E. Cran—Telegraph Journal

 

"A fast moving suspense thriller, it will keep you up all night to finish it…"
—
Kathy Thomason Book Reviewer The Butler County Post

 

"…a riveting thriller that will leave you breathless. Hovey is a master of this genre…"
—
Deborah Shlian, Author of Wednesday's Child, Shou

"…a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way …is your door locked?"
—
Linda Hersey—Fredericton Gleaner

 

LISTEN TO THE SHADOWS

 

"Joan Hall Hovey packs a terrifying punch as her first novel, 'Listen to the Shadows', spins a chilling tale of revenge, murder and madness…"
—Jill M. Smith—Rave Reviews, N.Y.

 

"…will appeal to fans of romance, gothic and suspense novels. Hovey's scenes focusing on this deranged psychopath are razor sharp, and one is reminded of author Ruth Rendell."
—Evening Times Globe, Saint John, NB

 

"LISTEN TO THE SHADOWS has shades of the old gothic stories, complete with the scary old house. This story has the makings of a classic."
—Reviewer, Yvonne Hering

 

"…This one will put goosebumps all over you…chilling. I read it during a thunderstorm and found myself jumping several times. Excellent!"
—Huntress Book Reviews

 

"Written with the finesse and grace of a master …a powerful new voice in the world of suspense and mystery…"
—Cindy Penn—Wordweaving.com

 

"… a book that grabs your attention by the first sentence and never lets go…exciting, tensed, with elements of mystery, fear, and courage so masterfully woven in one masterpiece that I can't believe this is the author's debut! Grab a copy now, or you'll be missing a great read…"
—Defelah Morgan—Reviewer's Choice Award

 

"… a chilling, and very believable, insight into the mind and motivations of a true sociopathic killer…a spine-tingler of the first order…"
—Novelist, Ariana Overton …Author of Tapestry

 

"…This is a book that will stick with me for a long while, as I was reading it my heart would beat fast and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight, and to me that is the true sign of a good thriller. When you read this one make sure that the lights are on and that all your doors are

locked…"
—Myshelf.com—Pam Stone

 

"…a work so accomplished, so fluid and so suspenseful it is difficult to believe it really is a first novel!"
—Felix Griffin—Rave Reviews, NY