Final Words (18 page)

Jason hung his head. He hated these cases. Everyone was a
victim, from the deceased to the perpetrator to the cops who investigated. But
that little girl… To think that her own father might have…

“Mr. and Mrs. Benson?”

At the familiar voice, Jason lifted his head and saw Emma
enter the chapel. She didn’t notice him and he resisted the urge to go to her,
to draw the comfort from her that he so desperately needed right now. The
Bensons, he knew, needed it more.

Not that she would offer comfort to him anyway. She hadn’t
said much but he knew she’d been angry when he suggested that Amy’s death had
resulted from the father’s financial trouble. It had been a theory to
investigate and he’d just been theorizing out loud. It was part of his process.
He couldn’t
not
do his job to spare Emma’s feelings.

The grieving parents stood up as she approached them. Frank
Benson glanced at Jason before fixing his attention on Emma. His big body tensed
and his bleak expression intensified, as if whatever she had to say would
determine the rest of his life.

Which it would, Jason thought grimly and hated himself for
having to think like a cop yet again.

“I’m Emma St. Clair, one of the medical examiners.” Emma
offered her hand to Frank Benson first and then gently shook Iris’ hand. “I’m
so very sorry about Amy.”

She spoke with a soothing voice that stroked Jason’s raw
nerves. The medical examiner who’d talked to him about Rose had spoken with a
soothing voice too. But Jason had not been comforted by it then. The Bensons,
he knew, would not be comforted by it now. Nothing could take away a pain that
deep.

“I know this is hard for you,” Emma continued. “Please, let’s
sit down and I’ll explain what I’ve found.”

Jason’s attention shifted to Frank Benson as the man eased
his wife back down onto the pew. Although he was barely thirty, Benson moved
like an old man who’d just taken the weight of the world onto his shoulders.

“The police think Frank might have…” Iris Benson’s mouth
pinched and her mottled cheeks flushed crimson. “Or that Amy… But she wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t.”

“Neither of those things is true.” Emma sat beside Iris and
rested a hand on her shoulder. “I know that you believe she drowned but that
isn’t the case. The leukemia took her. She died peacefully, watching those fish
her daddy kept for her.”

“But she was so weak,” Iris said. “How could she walk out to
the pond?”

“I found her. She loved to sit there…” Frank’s voice broke
and he had to choke out the words. “How did she get out there when she could
barely walk?”

“Sometimes a very ill person will appear to regain her
strength during the last few minutes or even hours of her life. I believe that’s
what happened to Amy.” Emma smiled gently. “I imagine that she felt better and
she wanted to see the fish. She walked outside to sit beside the pond, as she
loved to do and then she simply went to sleep.”

“And fell in after she…” Iris’ raspy voice broke and a
moment passed before she could go on. “You mean my baby didn’t drown? No one
did this to her? She wasn’t scared?”

“She wasn’t scared at all. There was no water in her lungs,
no evidence of drowning.” Emma squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Amy is at peace
now. She doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Sobbing, Iris threw her arms around her husband. Frank
shuddered and buried his face in her prematurely gray hair.

Emma stood up. As she did so, she caught sight of Jason. The
anger that had darkened her eyes earlier had vanished. Now, he saw only a soft
expression of sympathy, as if she understood that he’d just been doing his job.
As if she understood that he’d had to explore every possibility no matter how
awful it might be. As if she understood how this case might have affected him.

Her apparent understanding didn’t ease his guilt much. His “suspicion”
had only added to this couple’s hell.

Leaning over, Emma put her hand on Iris Benson’s shoulder
again. “I’m going to explain this to Detective MacKenzie.”

“Thank you.” Iris’ voice grew thick as she answered for
herself and her sobbing husband.

Turning away from them, Emma walked up the aisle toward the
door. Jason rose and met her there. He saw the redness in her eyes and guilt
hit him again. These cases affected her too.

And how much more, he wondered, considering her apparent obsession
with death?

“I didn’t want to believe that he did it,” he said before
she could speak. “But we had to know for sure. Still, I should’ve been more
sensitive. Saying what I said—in front of them—I’m sorry.”

She placed her fingertips against his chest and then lowered
her hands to her sides. “You heard what I told the Bensons?”

“Yeah. The disease killed her. She fell into the pond after
she died.” Jason took a deep breath of his own and released it slowly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced over her shoulder at the
grieving parents and then back at him. “The Bensons can go home now?”

“Yeah. I’ll see they get there all right. God, they’ll never
forgive me for being such a jerk.”

Emma lifted her hands to his chest again. This time, she
left them there. “You were insensitive, Jason but you’re no jerk. You responded
with your own honest emotion for a dead child. Give them time and they will
forgive you. Right now, you should forgive yourself.”

“That might take some work.” He placed his hands over hers
and felt his heart beat against her palms. “Can
you
forgive me?”

Her gaze locked with his and a slight smile touched her lips.
“There’s nothing to forgive.”

For a long moment, they just stood there. Gradually Jason
felt the ache around his heart ease. His pulse steadied. “When can they have
Amy’s body?”

“Tomorrow.” She lowered her hands with what he took for
reluctance. “As I said, there are still lab tests to run. But I’m certain they
won’t show anything unusual or suspicious.”

“Must be nice to be so sure.”

Her lips curled into a strangely peaceful smile. “I’ve never
been more sure of anything in my life.”

More of her peace reached out to him as Jason realized that
he believed her.

* * * * *

Emma barely had enough strength to put one foot in front of
the other by the time she reached her apartment door around mid-morning. Amy
Benson’s case had really taken a toll on her. Working on children was always
extra emotional. This case had been particularly so because of Skitch’s past.
She had hoped to spend a little more time with Jason once she finished her
reports but neither of them had been emotionally or physically up to it.

Fitting the key into the lock of her front door, she turned
it and let herself inside. A familiar scent immediately enveloped her, bringing
with it a shot of joy and relief.

“Hello, Punkin.” Her father stood up from the sofa and
opened his arms.

Dropping her purse and keys, Emma flew to her father. Seconds
later her mother appeared from the kitchen. The scent of Hope’s perfume,
although a light formula, swelled around her, the lavender soothing Emma to the
point where tears welled in her eyes.

“You said you were fine,” her mother said, taking a turn to
embrace her. “But we needed to see for ourselves.”

The three of them settled on the sofa and Emma brushed her
tears from her cheek. “I’m just so glad to see you,” she said.

Keeping her arm around Emma’s shoulders, Hope gave her a
gentle squeeze. “We actually have two reasons for being here.”

“After talking to you the other night,” her father added, “we
decided we need to see Aunt Victoria.”

Emma straightened her spine, feeling instantly energized. “I’m
coming with you.”

Her mother smiled. “We thought you might say that. Why don’t
you freshen up while I fix you something to eat? Then we’ll drive over
together.”

* * * * *

The retirement home on the west side of Houston seemed more
like a luxury hotel than a retirement center. Private rooms and lush
furnishings suited a clientele that was accustomed to the finer things in life.
Emma had visited her Great-Aunt Victoria there many times when she had lived in
Houston with Alan. Guilt flashed through her at the realization that she hadn’t
been there in months.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Nick said as they approached
Victoria Morgan where she sat near a piano in the main social area of the
center.

“Nicholas, what a wonderful surprise!”

They each took a turn hugging the silver-haired woman in the
wheelchair. Despite severe back problems, Victoria Morgan still carried herself
in a regal—but approachable—manner and other than her occasional brief asides
to unseen visitors, her mind appeared sharp. Her smile, wide and bright, proved
her relationship to Emma’s father.

“Hope, it’s so good to see you. And, Emma, you look
wonderful,” Aunt Victoria said when Emma dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Your
father told me about your terrible accident. How are you feeling, dear?”

“Just the odd ache now and then,” Emma admitted. “But I’m
pretty much recovered.”

“I was so sorry to hear about your friend.” Aunt Victoria
gestured toward a nearby ladder-back chair. “Sit next to me.”

Emma pulled the chair near her great-aunt. Her father
brought over two other chairs for himself and Hope.

Aunt Victoria reached out to grip Emma’s hand. “And how is
Alan?”

“We’ve been divorced for a while now.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news!”

Emma glanced at her parents in surprise. Her father lifted
one shoulder.

“I could never lie to Aunt Victoria,” he explained. “She
knows you weren’t happy.”

“No sense in sticking with a man who makes you miserable,”
Victoria said lifting her chin to an even more queenly level. “I should know
after trying out five husbands of my own.”

Emma couldn’t help laughing. “That makes a lot of sense,”
she agreed.

“And you’ve moved out of Houston?”

“Back to Clear Harbor.”

“Your hometown. That’s wonderful. And you’re happy there?
You’ve found a new love?”

Emma’s mother reached over to touch the older woman’s arm. “She’s
been busy trying to get back to work, Victoria. She’s not interested in men
yet.”

Emma didn’t tell her mother that there was one man she was
very interested in. She would give her parents that news later.

“I’m very happy there, Aunt Victoria.” Emma shifted closer
and lowered her voice. “But I am having some unusual experiences since my
accident.”

Aunt Victoria’s pale blue eyes took on a slightly unfocused
look for a moment and then she turned a pointed gaze in Emma’s direction. “Tell
me, dear.”

Emma felt her parents’ attention intensify too and so she
spoke where they could hear her story as well. “Today for example. I did a
procedure on a little girl who had died of leukemia.”

“Oh, how dreadful.”

“More dreadful for her parents than for her because I know
that Amy is at peace.” Emma paused. “I know because I spoke to her spirit.”

Her parents exchanged concerned looks but Aunt Victoria
smiled patiently. “Go on, dear,” she said. “What did little Amy tell you?”

“She told me how she died. Knowing the truth quickly, not
having to take the time to wait for a lot of test results, helped set her
parents’ minds at ease.”

“It would.” Aunt Victoria inclined her head and her eyes
took on that unfocused look once more, as if she was listening to someone at
her shoulder. She smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

Emma looked at her parents. Nick nodded encouragement.

“Aunt Victoria.” Emma tightened her grip on Aunt Victoria’s
hand. “You occasionally talk to people that the rest of us can’t see.”

She nodded. “The angels. You call them spirits but I call
them angels. People that I meet occasionally have angels near them and they
talk to me.”

Curiosity warred with worry in Nick’s eyes. “When did this
start happening?”

Aunt Victoria laughed lightly. “Now, Nicholas, you should
know. It was the day of my accident. You were there when I slipped on the water
that splashed out of Mitch’s dog’s bowl. Those ceramic tiles in my kitchen
could be so slippery.”

Nick exchanged glances with his wife and Emma. “I don’t
remember that.”

“Well, you were only four years old. But you were clever
enough to pick up the phone and call an operator for help.” Aunt Victoria
turned to Emma. “I used to watch your father while his mother worked.”

“I do remember that,” Nick said. “You made the best peanut
butter sandwiches.”

“Which is exactly what I was doing when Mitch’s dog dribbled
water all over the floor. I slipped and hit my head on that hard ceramic tile.”
Aunt Victoria tilted her head again and nodded slightly. Quietly she spoke over
her shoulder. “I’m getting to it. Just be patient.”

Emma looked at the area behind her great-aunt but saw
nothing out of the ordinary.

The elderly woman went on. “After an instant of darkness, I
came to and found myself above my body, watching Nicholas race for the phone to
call for help. Then I heard my mother’s voice. She had been dead for some years
but I recognized her voice right away and I looked up to see her standing in a
lovely golden tunnel. Ah but I felt so wonderful at that moment. Such peace.
Such happiness. But she told me I couldn’t stay with her.”

“You died. But you came back.”

“I did. And I discovered soon after that I could see and
speak with the angels that visit some people.” She lifted one shoulder. “Most
of them don’t have much to say to me because they’re just going about their
business. Usually we simply acknowledge each other but occasionally I’m asked
to pass along a message.”

Hope glanced around. “Are there angels around us now?”

“In a place like this, with so many elderly folks, there are
many. They come to guide us, warn us or just watch over us.” Aunt Victoria
looked at a spot just beyond Hope’s right shoulder. “You have one of your own
right now, Hope. Your great-grandmother on your father’s side. Her name is
Sarah.”