Last Whisper (26 page)

“Well, they tried the insanity plea at his trial, but it didn’t work,” Myers said. “No ethical psychiatrist was willing to testify that Tavell didn’t know right from wrong.”

“Oh, he knew right from wrong all right,” Brooke snapped. “He knew killing Mom was wrong. He never even claimed that it wasn’t.”

“I guess you have to give him some credit for that,” Jay said before Brooke shot him a withering look.

Myers stepped in. “I think we’ve learned all we can from Miss Yeager, Corrigan. We need to get back to the church and find out more about who left those flowers.”

Brooke nodded. “Flowers left specifically for me with a teenage girl.”

“You said she also looked like Mia,” Jay said.

“And that is possibly dangerous for her.” Fear replaced disgust in Brooke’s expression. “Find her quickly and protect her.”

“Count on it, Brooke,” Jay said. “Stacy will be home in a couple of hours. She’ll come over. You don’t need to be alone this afternoon.”

“She won’t be alone,” Vincent said. “I’ll see to it.”

After the detectives left, Vincent closed the Bible, lifted it from Brooke’s lap, and returned it to the bookshelf. “Can I get you something besides that tea?”

“How about a bottle of Valium?”

“Sorry. I don’t have one with me today.”

“No beer, either?”

Vincent looked at her, then at Elise, and smiled. “You don’t need tranquilizers or alcohol. You need fresh air and some fun.”

“Fun?
Today
?”

“Yes, Brooke, it
is
possible to have fun today. I’m going home, check on Dad, and change clothes. In the meantime, you leave a note for Stacy telling her you’re with me and safe, get out of that nice dress and into jeans, preferably tight ones, and find a leash for young Elise over there. The three of us are going to have an adventure.” He opened the door to her apartment. “Lock this as soon as I leave. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes.”

“Okay, but I’d still like to know”—the door shut—“where we’re going.”

Brooke locked the door and pushed the dead bolt into place. Then she turned to Elise. “I don’t want to go anywhere, but he seems to be determined, so I guess we’d better suit up for whatever he has planned. I can’t remember where I put your leash this morning—”

In a flash, the dog scrambled into a corner, pawed through her wicker basket of toys, and triumphantly pulled out the leash. “Well, aren’t you the sneaky one? Is that where you hide the thing when it’s raining and you don’t want to go outside?” Elise looked up at her like the most innocent dog in the world. “Well, the jig’s up. Now you’ll have to find a new hiding place.”

Almost an hour later, someone tapped on Brooke’s door. “It’s me,” Vincent said.

Brooke opened the door, holding up her arm and taking a long look at her watch. “You are eight minutes late.”

“Traffic.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“All of whom?”

“All men who are always late. Elise and I were ready to go without you.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Vincent said.

“We have our own favorite spots. However, since you
finally
showed up, I guess we’ll give you another chance.”

Vincent stepped into the apartment, eyeing her low-rise jeans and scoop-necked turquoise top. She’d even added a pair of chandelier earrings, supposedly very hip these days with informal wear.

“You look great.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself. Please tell me you didn’t pick out a particularly snug black T-shirt to show off your muscles.”

“Oh, do they show?” Vincent asked innocently.

Brooke quirked an eyebrow at him. “As if you didn’t know you look all tan and ripply.”

“Ripply,” Vincent repeated. “I like that, although it isn’t really a word.”

“Excuse me. You’re rippling with muscles that would set any girl’s heart aflutter.”

“It was really Elise’s heart I was after.” Vincent grinned.

“Well, judging by the way she’s panting, I’d say you’ve won it.” Brooke picked up her purse and Elise’s leash. “All
right, Mr. Lockhart. You promised to show us some fun. Let’s see how well you do.”

When they walked out of the building and Brooke saw Vincent’s silver Mercedes convertible, she suddenly thought of the dog. “There’s no place for Elise to sit.”

“How about on your lap?”

Brooke frowned. “You know how timid she is and she’s never been in a convertible before. Vincent, riding in this car might just totally freak her out.”

Five minutes later, as they spun east along Kanawha Boulevard, Elise sat straight and tall on Brooke’s lap, her ears flapping, her tongue lolling, a look Brooke interpreted as pure rapture on her slim face. “Yeah, she’s freaked out all right,” Vincent drawled. “You’ll probably never get her in a car again.”

“You mean I’ll never get her in
my
car again. She’s going to insist I buy one like yours, and I’m afraid it’s out of my price range.”

“Maybe we could arrange a couple more excursions for her,” Vincent said. “That is, if you don’t think they’ll make her too nervous.”

Holding tightly to the dog, Brooke closed her eyes, leaned back her head, and let her long blond hair blow wildly in the wind. Vincent’s CD player blasted “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi—“a favorite from my misspent youth,” he’d told her—and before long she found herself singing along with Jon and wishing she could play the guitar like Richie Sambora.

Vincent looked over at her. “May I ask what’s responsible for your remarkable change in mood in the last hour?”

“Will power. I decided I could sit in the apartment, cry over Mia, and let fear for my own well-being freeze me into a living death, or I could just let go. After all, it was my decision to stay in Charleston. I couldn’t expect Zach to give up on me after two thwarted attempts. He’s going to keep after me.” She looked back at Vincent. “But he’s not going to get me, physically
or
emotionally.”

Vincent gave her a small, tight smile. “I’d like to say,
‘Good for you, Brooke,’ and mean it, but I still think you’re taking an unnecessary risk. I’m afraid you’re one of those people who think they’re invincible.”

“I know quite well I’m not invincible, but I’m not a coward, either.” Brooke paused. “And I am
not
leaving Grossmutter, Vincent, because I know in my bones she won’t be alive this time next week. She has spent most of her life taking care of me. I’m not going to abandon her to die alone. Now, we’re going to change the subject.”

“Yes,
ma’am
,” Vincent said, although the troubled look didn’t leave his eyes. “Did you have a particular subject in mind?”

“The capitol building,” Brooke returned as the sun bounced off the dazzling gold-leaf dome. “I’ll give you a dollar if you can tell me exactly how high it is.”

Vincent frowned, ran his gaze up and down the dome, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, sucked his lower lip between his teeth, and just when Brooke was about to burst into a triumphant laugh, shouted, “It’s two hundred and ninety-three feet tall, five feet higher than the United States Capitol dome!”

“Oh, darn!” she cried. “Why did you lead me on so long?”

“Because you looked so smug. Where’s my dollar?”

“I’ll give it to you later.”

“But I need it now. We’re just about out of gas.”

“And you were planning to fill up on a
dollar
?”

“No. I lied.”

“Figures. Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They began climbing a hill, the powerful engine of the Mercedes purring with confidence, Vincent smiling, Brooke watching Elise look around in fascination. They came to a fork in the road and Vincent turned right. Onward they climbed until at last they came to Coonskin Park.

“I haven’t been here for over ten years,” Vincent said.

“Then you’ll be surprised at some of the changes they’ve made.”

“Including all those ‘Dogs on Leashes’ signs?”

“I don’t remember quite so many of them from when my grandmother used to bring me up here, but then I didn’t have a dog. It was just the two of us, rattling up here in her ancient Volkswagen. I always wanted to listen to the radio, but she insisted we sing German songs she’d learned when she was a kid.” Brooke looked at Vincent. “They were awful and so was Grossmutter’s voice. I was always
so
relieved when we finally reached the ‘family center’ and got out of the car.”

He laughed. “My family took a few expeditions up this way, too. Dad always had to be in command. Mom would say, ‘Oh, Sam, let’s stop here for a family picture!’ and he’d say, ‘I know a better spot,’ which of course he never found. After I hit fourteen, coming up here with my parents was one of the most embarrassing things in the world to me. They thought I should go with the other ‘children’ for a pleasant little hike, and I wanted to join some kind of tough gang and really explore the place and do something daring.”

“I didn’t know they had tough gangs up here,” Brooke said.

“Oh, they probably didn’t. They were a figment of my already overproductive imagination, but I was sure they existed and as soon as they saw me standing alone, looking all cool and tough like Clint Eastwood in those Italian Westerns, they’d appear.” He threw her an abashed smile. “Stupid, wasn’t I?”

“Creative, with a strong desire to be as strong and commanding as you imagined your father to be.”

“Imagined?”

“We all have weak points, Vincent. Even Sam Lockhart.”

“Yeah? Well, they didn’t show. Not back then, at least.”

They drove past a meandering stream with arched wooden bridges and scenic spots where cars were pulled over, some adult taking photographs of a child playing on a slope. Finally, Vincent slowed down. “Ah, the famous ‘family center’ is in view! And it looks a helluva lot more impressive than it used to.”

“Watch your language in front of Elise,” Brooke said. “Let’s look at the ducks on the pond.”

They parked in front of a large log building in which Brooke knew there was a restaurant and led Elise to the pond. White and brown ducks floated calmly on the sparkling water. Elise barked at them, whether as a threat or just as a hello Brooke didn’t know, but the ducks ignored her. “No respect,” Brooke said.

“They see that she’s on a leash.”

“They probably also know that she doesn’t like to get her paws wet. Notice how she stands at the very edge of the water. Not one toe actually goes in.”

They walked around the pond, looking at the tennis courts, beyond to the lush golf course, and at all the colorful playground equipment placed nearby. Elise stood mesmerized, watching a boy on a skateboard do a heart-stopping flip on the ramp.

“Did I tell you how terrific you look today?” Vincent asked.

“Yes, but I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. How terrific could I possibly look? Besides, I think stress has caused a zit on my chin.”

Vincent took her chin in his hand and tilted it up toward him. “I’m looking at you wearing barely any makeup in harsh sunlight and I can’t see one flaw.” He paused. “Except a few freckles across that perfect nose, and they aren’t flaws. They’re cute.”

Brooke blushed, which made her furious with herself. “Are all California guys ladies’ men? Do you get a seduction manual when you cross the state line?”

“No,” Vincent said solemnly. “Not until you reach the extreme West Coast and pay ten dollars for your official playboy badge.”

Brooke gave him a light shove, laughing. The sun, the gentle warmth of the afternoon, the laughter of children and adults, the sight of Elise galloping along in spite of her leash, the presence of Vincent Lockhart—Vincent Lockhart telling her she looked terrific. All of it almost wiped out the horror of receiving the vase of white roses at Mia’s funeral. Almost.

Vincent looked up at an airplane soaring above them, its
silver body gleaming in the sun. “Another jet leaves Yeager Airport,” he said. Then he frowned. “
Yeager
Airport, named after General Charles Yeager, first man to fly faster than the speed of sound. No relation to you, I suppose.”

“Third cousin.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“Of course, Vincent.”

“What’s he like?”

“Confident.”

“No kidding,” Vincent said. “Wow. If I’d known you were Chuck Yeager’s cousin . . .”

“Yes?”

“I would have been a whole lot nicer to you the day I met you.”

“When you didn’t want your father to let me into the house?”

“A lapse in judgment on my part.”

“I’ll say. A
major
lapse.”

“Major. General. What’s the difference? I apologize.” Vincent looked up at the disappearing plane. “Yeager Airport is on the next hill. Would you mind if we took a jaunt over to watch a few planes take off?”

“Don’t tell me—you wanted to be a jet pilot when you were young.”

“Exactly. How did you know?”

“You’re the type.”

“And what type is that?”

“A closet thrill seeker,” Brooke laughed.

“Come on, Brooke. Maybe General Yeager will just happen to be around.”

“You know we’re probably wearing out those poor surveillance cops who’ve been assigned to follow us everywhere.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure they’re having a ball.”

“Whatever you say.” Brooke tugged on Elise’s leash. “C’mon, girl. We’re off on another adventure.”

“Vincent, I’m really not very hungry,” Brooke protested as Vincent ordered the giant barrel at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

“You didn’t eat any lunch and I’ll bet you didn’t eat breakfast, either.”

“No, I didn’t, but still—”

“A large container of coleslaw,” he went on to the girl behind the counter, “six orders of French fries, at least twenty hush puppies, two orders of hot wings . . .”

Brooke looked outside at Elise sitting on the lap of one of the surveillance cops. Her front paws were firmly planted on the dashboard, her gaze fixed on Brooke, who’d placed herself in full view of the dog. Elise looked only slightly anxious. The cop whose lap she sat on looked intensely annoyed. The one behind the wheel was laughing.

“Vincent, we really shouldn’t have pushed Elise off on that guy. His clothes are going to be covered with hair.”