The Restorer (14 page)

“What? No. He’s not the type.” Ethan scowled at her. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

“I saw him come out of the biology lab one day. He was still adjusting his cuff—have you noticed how he always wears long sleeves even in summer? Anyway, I saw the scar.” She smoothed the napkin over her lap. “I suppose I shouldn’t speak so harshly about the poor fellow. We’re all a bit strange when it comes right down to it. You, me, Camille, Daniel. Maybe there was something in the water at Emerson.”

“You may be onto something,” Ethan said, eyes twinkling. “Amelia seems to be the only normal one at the table.”

Whatever that means.

“Speaking of strange,” Temple said. “Isn’t that John Devlin?”

My smile disappeared and I whirled in my seat. “Where?”

“Don’t be so obvious,” Temple scolded. “Over there. In the corner.”

He was seated alone at an out-of-the-way table that would have allowed anyone else to fade into the woodwork. But not Devlin. Even across the crowded restaurant, his magnetism was conspicuous.

My eyes lingered for only a moment before I turned back to Temple. “How do you know Devlin? No, don’t tell me. You had a torrid affair with him at Emerson.” I was only half joking.

“Don’t I wish,” she said with a knowing smile. “If he was at Emerson, we moved in different circles. I didn’t recognize the name when you mentioned it earlier, but now that I see his face, I remember him. We met a few years ago here in Charleston. I’d come down to examine some human artifacts that were found at a construction site, and Devlin and his partner were in charge of the investigation. He was young and had just made detective. The older cops teased him about his first homicide being nothing more than a few teeth and some vertebrae. It was all just good-natured ribbing. Then a young woman showed up—Devlin’s wife, I later learned—and the atmosphere changed. I can’t explain it. It was like she cast some sort of spell over us. We were all enthralled and she lapped up the attention like a kitten with a bowl of fresh cream.”

I found myself leaning forward in anticipation. It was all I could do not to glance back at Devlin. Silently, I urged Temple to continue, but I needn’t have bothered. This was Temple, after all.

“Devlin went to talk to her—how she even knew where to find him, I have no idea—and the whole time they stood there, I couldn’t stop staring at them.” Temple’s fingers tangled in the gold chain around her neck. “They were quite literally the most stunning couple I’d ever laid eyes on. And even though they were in the middle of a heated argument, there was something so primal and hungry about the way he stared down at her…the way their bodies unconsciously strained toward one another as if nothing—not time, not distance, not even death—could ever keep them apart.”

My breath quickened and I could feel the slow burn of a flush creeping up my neck. I fought temptation, lost and glanced over my shoulder.

Devlin stared back at me.

THIRTEEN

“H
er name was Mariama,” Ethan said quietly.

Temple and I glanced at each other. Her brows rose slightly as she turned back to Ethan. “What an unusual name. And I noticed you used the past tense.”

He nodded, but didn’t clarify. “My father knew her family and he brought her to Emerson. Very bright young woman, but she had a hard time merging her personal beliefs with the science.”

“What were her personal beliefs?” Temple asked.

“What you get when you mix superstition and religion. Part Methodist, part witchcraft with a smidgen of voodoo. Her people were Gullah descended,” he said. “Atlantic Creoles.”

“That explains the gorgeous complexion and hair,” Temple murmured.

I knew a little about the Gullah history in the Sea Islands and the strong connection to the Rice Coast during the slave years. Until a few decades ago, some of the sects in South Carolina and Georgia had remained so isolated from society that certain words, names, even songs in their language could be traced directly back to Sierra Leone. Their belief in
joso
—witchcraft—could also be traced back to their African roots.

“Interesting that she would hook up with a police detective,” Temple said. “That must have been quite a culture clash.”

“Especially when you factor in
his
background. He’s from the same old Charleston that produced Camille Ashby. People with their pedigree don’t take lesbian lovers or Creole wives. But John never put much stock in tradition. He was already the black sheep long before Mariama came along.”

“Do tell.” Temple propped her chin on her hand and leaned in.

“Don’t look so eager,” Ethan said. “It’s not nearly as decadent as your story.”

“Pity.”

Ethan grinned. “John gave up a position in the family law firm to join the police force. It may not sound like that big a deal, but his decision went against an age-old legacy and a lifetime of expectations. I doubt he and his grandfather have spoken two words since the day he graduated from the academy.”

Temple sat back in her chair. “How do you know so much about him? Is he a personal friend of yours?”

“He is, as a matter of fact.” Ethan smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “And, anyway, this is Charleston, darling. Everyone knows everyone.”

I said nothing to any of this. I thought it a little disrespectful to be discussing Devlin’s personal life in such intimate detail. His table was far enough away and there was so much chatter in the restaurant that I knew he couldn’t hear us, but I was uncomfortable with the discussion just the same. Temple and Ethan apparently had no such compunction. They were like a pair of chattering magpies.

“So what happened to his wife?” Temple asked.

Ethan’s eyes clouded. “It was a horrible accident. Her car went through a guardrail and plunged into a river. She was trapped inside the vehicle and drowned.”

An image of Devlin’s ghosts rose before me.

“Was she alone?” I heard myself ask.

“No, sadly, their four-year-old daughter was with her. Their deaths very nearly destroyed John. He took six months’ leave from the department and just disappeared. No one knew where he went, but rumors eventually surfaced that he’d been checked into some sort of private sanitarium.”

“Can’t believe everything you hear,” Temple said. “But it does give a juicy twist to the story.”

Their voices faded as the air grew electric. I wanted to believe it was my imagination, but I knew better. Devlin’s ghosts were nearby. I couldn’t see them, but I could sense their presence. Maybe they were out in the garden with the other ghost, waiting for their hosts to cross whatever divide kept them apart.

They might be waiting for me, too, if I wasn’t careful.

Pushing back my chair, I rose. “Would you excuse me? Little girls’ room.”

I made my way through the crowded restaurant without glancing in Devlin’s direction. Inside the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and then studied my reflection in the mirror.

This fascination with Devlin could go no further. I’d put myself in a dangerous position because of my attraction, but it wasn’t too late. I could still put a stop to this. I could hole up in my sanctuary until he and his ghosts just went away. All it took was a little common sense and a great deal of willpower. Normally, I had both.

Patting my face dry, I straightened my spine and exited the bathroom.

Devlin waited for me in the narrow alcove outside. To get back to my table, I would have to go past him.

I hesitated, then started forward.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, folded his arms and watched me with the darkest eyes I’d ever looked into. Sorcerer’s eyes, I thought. Numinous and mesmerizing.

It occurred to me in that moment that no matter what I did, Devlin and I were already irrevocably bound by circumstances. If the clues to the killer were hidden within the gravestone imagery, I might be the only person who could interpret them. He needed me and that knowledge thrilled me far more than it should have.

There wasn’t much room in the narrow passage, and when someone jostled me, I found myself pressed up against him. In that brief moment of contact, I caught the scent of cologne on his skin, a whiff of whiskey on his breath. And something else, too. A faint whisper of musk that belonged only to Devlin.

Our faces were close, our lips only inches apart. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me, and I wondered how I would respond. Even the thought of it made me breathless, and I closed my eyes, imagining the pressure of his mouth against mine. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, the tease of his thumb across my lips and a deep shudder ripped through me. When I opened my eyes, he hadn’t moved. I had conjured it all, and I didn’t know whether the emotion storming through me now was relief or bitter regret.

Shaken, I backed away from him, away from my fantasy. Those magnetic eyes followed me. I had the strangest feeling that no matter where I went or what I did, Devlin’s gaze would always be on me.

“I thought you barely knew Ethan Shaw,” he said.

His cool tone, coming on the heels of my overheated imagination, caught me off guard. “What?”

“You only met him briefly through his father. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes…”

“And yet here you are together.”

The disapproving note in his voice released me from his spell and I frowned up at him. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t have dinner with Ethan Shaw? And not that it matters, but Temple is the one who invited him. It seems the two of them are old friends.”

“Good to know. Maybe we can avoid a turf war over the remains,” he said.

“Maybe we can.”

What a strange encounter. What an awkward conversation. If I didn’t know better, I would almost think he sounded jealous. But then that would mean—

I cut off the half-formed thought. I couldn’t allow myself to go there. Not after today. Not after everything my father had warned me about had come to pass. A door had been opened and something terrible had come through. I had to stay away from Devlin and his ghosts. I couldn’t let that door swing open any wider.

And yet in the face of all that, his attraction was so powerful and mesmeric, I couldn’t tear myself away.

Music from the restaurant drifted through the arched door way where we stood. The beat was dark and heavy and some thing primitive stirred within me. Something I had never felt before.

I looked up into Devlin’s face, searching. He had no idea the battle that raged inside me. He had no idea the havoc he had wreaked on my peace of mind.

His dark eyes drew me in and I shivered before somehow mustering the strength to break free. “I should get back.”

He moved aside to allow me to pass, but I stood motionless, trapped now by my own weakness.

Temple came up to us then and placed her hand on my arm. “There you are. We were beginning to think you’d deserted us.” She studied my face curiously, then turned to Devlin and put out her hand. “Temple Lee. We met years ago, but I’m certain you don’t remember.” Her tone implied that of course he would remember. She was Temple Lee.

Devlin smiled noncommittally, making me think he couldn’t place her, and I don’t know why that amused me. “Nice to see you again. I got your message earlier,” he said. “A time for the exhumation hasn’t been set yet, but I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” She looped her arm through mine. “We should get back. Poor Ethan will think we’ve both left him.”

I said nothing, merely nodded. In a way, it was a relief to let Temple take charge.

“I couldn’t help noticing that you’re dining alone,” she said to Devlin. “Would you care to join us?”

My heart skipped a beat as I gazed up at him, hoping he would decline. An evening of trying to make small talk in his company without giving anything away was more than I could bear at the moment.

“Thank you, but not tonight,” he said. “I wouldn’t be very good company. I have a lot on my mind.”

And then his gaze dropped, swept over me, and I felt as if I’d just been given a very intimate appraisal. Everything inside me stilled, then trembled and Temple’s earlier words came rushing back to me.

There was something so primal and hungry about the way he stared down at her…the way their bodies unconsciously strained toward one another as if nothing—not time, not distance, not even death—could ever keep them apart.

After Ethan left, Temple and I stood outside the restaurant talking. It was still drizzling, but neither of us minded the damp weather. We leaned against the wall, faces upturned to the sky.

“I love the smell of rain,” she said with a sigh. “So crisp and clean, and yet there’s always an undercurrent of flowers here. For my money, this is the most gorgeous city in the South. If New Orleans is midnight, Charleston is twilight. All soft and misty and sweet-smelling.”

“You’re such a romantic,” I teased.

“Only in moments of weakness. Or when I have too much wine.”

“Temple…can I ask you something?”

“Hmm…” she said dreamily.

“Were you at Emerson when Afton Delacourt was murdered?”

Her eyes slowly opened. “How do you know about Afton Delacourt?”

“Her body was found in Oak Grove, right?”

“Who told you that? Who’s been talking to you about Afton Delacourt?”

The hard edge in her voice took me by surprise. “I’ve been doing a lot of research in preparation for the restoration, remember?”

She looked unconvinced. “What is it you want to know?”

“I heard that Rupert Shaw was questioned by the police. Do you think there’s any chance he was involved?”

“Of course not. That whole situation was created by someone who had a grudge against Dr. Shaw. They deliberately set out to ruin his reputation and very nearly succeeded. He was asked to leave Emerson, you know.”

“That must have been a difficult time for him and Ethan.”

“It was a difficult time for all of us. Everyone on campus was on edge. We thought there could be a murderer in our midst.” She glanced at her watch and scowled.

“Did you know anyone who belonged to the Order of the Coffin and the Claw?”