[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
assertion that Matt had never loved anyone but her.
Until she knew what she wanted, they couldn't go there. Much as she longed to.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"About the past. The way it was between us."
"I'm glad." He dropped his face close to hers. "Because it was good. And it could be good again. Very
good."
"I wish I could be as certain. So much has changed, Matt. We've cha "
He brought a finger to her lips. "I'm a patient man. I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer."
CHAPTER 24
Gwen stared at the front page of the Gazette's Wednesday edition, her morning cup of coffee cooling on
the bedstand. Not the headline story about Peggy Trumble's winning entry in the annual Spring Fest
bake-off, but the one at the bottom, tucked into a corner, almost an afterthought: Car Hauled Out of
Tiller's Pond.
She skimmed the piece for the third time. The story hardly more than a blurb went on to report how
Avery Chauvin and Hunter Stevens had discovered a car abandoned in Tiller's Pond. The vehicle had
been hauled out and found to be empty.
It was the last line of the piece that shook her to the core.
The owner of the vehicle, New Orleanian Luke McDougal, who had been heading from nearby Clinton
to St. Francisville, had been reported missing by his girlfriend three weeks before. Anyone with
information should call the West Feliciana Parish Sheriff's Department.
No body. Just like her brother.
Gwen's legs shook so badly she had to sit. She sank onto the edge of the bed and brought a hand to her
mouth. A suicide. A murder. And two disappearances. The Seven were responsible for all three, she
hadn't a doubt. Dr. Phillip Chauvin had been killed because he'd known too much about The Seven.
Elaine St. Claire had been killed because of her lifestyle. Her brother had gotten too close to the group.
What about Luke McDougal? She shifted her gaze to the Gazette. According to the article, he had been
passing through town. So what was his connection to the group? Was there a connection?
There had to be. McDougal's disappearance was too similar to her brother's. Car found, seemingly
abandoned. No sign of its owner or of foul play.
Avery Chauvin had been at the scene. So had Hunter Stevens. Gwen drew her eyebrows together,
curious. She had seen the man's name in connection with another news piece recently. She searched her
memory a moment.
He had found Elaine St. Claire's body.
That was odd, even for a community as small as Cypress Springs. It seemed to her that the coincidental
and unexplainable were piling up. As were the bodies even if no one but she saw it.
She could be next.
Avery Chauvin had told her the same thing, though at the time it hadn't frightened her. Now she
wondered if the woman meant the words as a warning. Or a threat.
Gwen fought the urge to flee. Fought to come to grips with the overwhelming sensation of being trapped.
She had trusted Avery, even though she had known nothing about her. She had automatically assumed
she could because Avery had only recently returned to Cypress Springs. And because of her father's
suicide.
That hadn't been smart. Avery Chauvin could be sympathetic to The Seven. Their cause. Her father very
well may have taken his own life, she had no physical evidence proving otherwise, just a gut feeling.
Gwen recalled Avery's surprise and denial to her assertions about The Seven. Her obvious, nearly
palpable relief when Gwen had suggested her father's death might have been other than suicide. As if
relieved to have an ally.
Avery could be in cahoots with The Seven, but she thought not.
Gwen stood and crossed to the window, lifted one of the blind's slats and peered out at the brilliant
morning. People moved about on their way to school, work, on errands. City workers were still
cleaning up from the weekend festival, removing lights, combing the square for the last remnants of trash.
Though no one as much as glanced her way, she felt as if she was being watched. Her comings and
goings recorded. Who she spoke with noted.
Action against her was being planned.
Shuddering, she stepped away from the window. She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. She
had been too vocal about The Seven. Had asked too many questions of too many people. She hadn't
used caution.
In her zeal to uncover her brother's fate, she had put herself in harm's way. Just as her brother, in his zeal
to prove his thesis, had. Would she, like Tom, simply disappear? Who would come looking for her if she
did? Or would her end come via suicide? She could see the headline now: Sister, Despondent Over
Disappearance of Brother, Takes Own Life.
Who would doubt she'd done it? Not her mother, who had slid so deeply into depression herself that she
could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Not the shrink she had seen, who had prescribed
antidepressants, then lectured her for not taking them.
Don't get paranoid. Just be careful.
She needed an ally. She needed someone she could trust. Someone who belonged here, in this
community. Someone the citizens of Cypress Springs trusted. Who could poke around and ask
questions. Someone skilled at ferreting out facts. A person who had a compelling, personal reason for
wanting to help her.
Only one such person came to mind.
Avery Chauvin.
CHAPTER 25
Gwen quickly showered and dressed. She towel-dried her hair, grateful for her no-fuss cap of curls,
slapped on a touch of makeup, grabbed her handbag and darted out. Avery, she'd noted, had taken to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
assertion that Matt had never loved anyone but her.
Until she knew what she wanted, they couldn't go there. Much as she longed to.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"About the past. The way it was between us."
"I'm glad." He dropped his face close to hers. "Because it was good. And it could be good again. Very
good."
"I wish I could be as certain. So much has changed, Matt. We've cha "
He brought a finger to her lips. "I'm a patient man. I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer."
CHAPTER 24
Gwen stared at the front page of the Gazette's Wednesday edition, her morning cup of coffee cooling on
the bedstand. Not the headline story about Peggy Trumble's winning entry in the annual Spring Fest
bake-off, but the one at the bottom, tucked into a corner, almost an afterthought: Car Hauled Out of
Tiller's Pond.
She skimmed the piece for the third time. The story hardly more than a blurb went on to report how
Avery Chauvin and Hunter Stevens had discovered a car abandoned in Tiller's Pond. The vehicle had
been hauled out and found to be empty.
It was the last line of the piece that shook her to the core.
The owner of the vehicle, New Orleanian Luke McDougal, who had been heading from nearby Clinton
to St. Francisville, had been reported missing by his girlfriend three weeks before. Anyone with
information should call the West Feliciana Parish Sheriff's Department.
No body. Just like her brother.
Gwen's legs shook so badly she had to sit. She sank onto the edge of the bed and brought a hand to her
mouth. A suicide. A murder. And two disappearances. The Seven were responsible for all three, she
hadn't a doubt. Dr. Phillip Chauvin had been killed because he'd known too much about The Seven.
Elaine St. Claire had been killed because of her lifestyle. Her brother had gotten too close to the group.
What about Luke McDougal? She shifted her gaze to the Gazette. According to the article, he had been
passing through town. So what was his connection to the group? Was there a connection?
There had to be. McDougal's disappearance was too similar to her brother's. Car found, seemingly
abandoned. No sign of its owner or of foul play.
Avery Chauvin had been at the scene. So had Hunter Stevens. Gwen drew her eyebrows together,
curious. She had seen the man's name in connection with another news piece recently. She searched her
memory a moment.
He had found Elaine St. Claire's body.
That was odd, even for a community as small as Cypress Springs. It seemed to her that the coincidental
and unexplainable were piling up. As were the bodies even if no one but she saw it.
She could be next.
Avery Chauvin had told her the same thing, though at the time it hadn't frightened her. Now she
wondered if the woman meant the words as a warning. Or a threat.
Gwen fought the urge to flee. Fought to come to grips with the overwhelming sensation of being trapped.
She had trusted Avery, even though she had known nothing about her. She had automatically assumed
she could because Avery had only recently returned to Cypress Springs. And because of her father's
suicide.
That hadn't been smart. Avery Chauvin could be sympathetic to The Seven. Their cause. Her father very
well may have taken his own life, she had no physical evidence proving otherwise, just a gut feeling.
Gwen recalled Avery's surprise and denial to her assertions about The Seven. Her obvious, nearly
palpable relief when Gwen had suggested her father's death might have been other than suicide. As if
relieved to have an ally.
Avery could be in cahoots with The Seven, but she thought not.
Gwen stood and crossed to the window, lifted one of the blind's slats and peered out at the brilliant
morning. People moved about on their way to school, work, on errands. City workers were still
cleaning up from the weekend festival, removing lights, combing the square for the last remnants of trash.
Though no one as much as glanced her way, she felt as if she was being watched. Her comings and
goings recorded. Who she spoke with noted.
Action against her was being planned.
Shuddering, she stepped away from the window. She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes. She
had been too vocal about The Seven. Had asked too many questions of too many people. She hadn't
used caution.
In her zeal to uncover her brother's fate, she had put herself in harm's way. Just as her brother, in his zeal
to prove his thesis, had. Would she, like Tom, simply disappear? Who would come looking for her if she
did? Or would her end come via suicide? She could see the headline now: Sister, Despondent Over
Disappearance of Brother, Takes Own Life.
Who would doubt she'd done it? Not her mother, who had slid so deeply into depression herself that she
could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Not the shrink she had seen, who had prescribed
antidepressants, then lectured her for not taking them.
Don't get paranoid. Just be careful.
She needed an ally. She needed someone she could trust. Someone who belonged here, in this
community. Someone the citizens of Cypress Springs trusted. Who could poke around and ask
questions. Someone skilled at ferreting out facts. A person who had a compelling, personal reason for
wanting to help her.
Only one such person came to mind.
Avery Chauvin.
CHAPTER 25
Gwen quickly showered and dressed. She towel-dried her hair, grateful for her no-fuss cap of curls,
slapped on a touch of makeup, grabbed her handbag and darted out. Avery, she'd noted, had taken to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]