Sins of the Father (43 page)

My eyes scanned both crowds. Christ, even
that obnoxious editor Samantha Wine from
Sync!
was out with
a photographer. All the local television stations were there.
Perhaps Belle Conall’s replacement on the crime desk was in
attendance for The Sentinel. It was a sea of digital cameras and
massive video equipment, puffs of microphones and a cacophony of
chaos.

Behind them, the muted crowd watched. I
think it was their silence that struck me as poignant. No murmurs
rippled through the crowd. No one shoved closer to get a better
look. It was if the entirety of Darkwater Bay stood mute in
judgment of not only an event, but the man on center stage. Or
perhaps what was left of him.

Johnny was off with his head pressed into
the FBI/OSI huddle. David Levine, Devlin Mackenzie, Chris Darnell,
and my twin brother – Crevan Conall. I didn’t wonder at their
discussion. No doubt that too centered around the web in which I
felt trapped at the center.

Maya’s blue coroner’s jacket flapped in a
gust of wind off the bay. She caught my eye, and a moment later, I
found myself sliding out of the front seat of the Expedition and
walking toward her. Nobody from Bay View Division stopped me. Why
would they? Johnny and Helen are an established team now.

The gurney with Sanderfield’s remains was
about to be shoved into the back of the coroner’s van when Billy
Withers stopped dead in his tracks. Our eyes met. His lips moved. A
moment later, Maya turned slowly.

I waved.

She smiled and took a hesitant step toward
me before it faltered.

It would be so easy, to take the next step
for her. I needed to do it. Even if I didn’t know how much yet, it
somehow felt like the right thing to do.

In two seconds, I was hugging her and
begging for forgiveness.

“I’m the one who should apologize. I broke
my promise, Helen. I swear, I’ll never do it again.”

My chin bumped the top of her head when I
nodded. “I won’t ask you to keep anything like that a secret, Maya.
It’s all out in the open now anyway.”

She peered up at me. “Explain that one,
cupcake, because –”

I arched one eyebrow.

Maya grinned. “Just checkin’.”

“Johnny knows the truth. Crevan knows the
truth. Beyond that, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Only if it matters to you, my friend.”

“I don’t suppose you’re inclined to tell me
what your gut says about this mess,” I asked.

She grinned and hooked one arm through mine.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold?”

I laughed. It wasn’t exactly what popped
into my head for her bizarre coping statement, but it eased the
lingering tension just the same.

“I should be asking you that question,
Helen. And,” with a gentle pat to my growing tummy, “I’m stunned
that Orion let you within a ten mile radius of this place. After
all, our sniper extraordinaire could still be lurking about.”

It didn’t frighten me, which if I were
thinking clearly, was wrong. It simply felt too right to be back
with Maya again, our familiar banter free to scandalize anyone in
earshot. “He is, as they say, in the wind, Maya. Assassins don’t
hang around to watch the cops work a crime scene. Now a serial
killer might.”

She grinned. “I’ve missed you, you
know.”

“Me too.”

Did I mean I’ve missed her or that I’ve
missed me? Not the me that has evolved in this brain-clouded fog,
the old me. The real me. The one who was reared to know better than
to stick around and watch. Wasn’t that what I was doing after all?
I came here, to Darkwater Bay with one purpose – to get Danny
Datello. That job was done.

Why was I still here?

The flapping crime scene tape caught the
corner of my eye again. I glanced at it, saw the dark clad figure
for a split second with his back turned. A chill wracked my body.
What was it about that gait? Those squared shoulders? In a split
second, another wave of unease washed over my confused psyche.

“Someone is watching.”

“Whole lotta some ones, sweetheart.”

I let her little pet name pass this time. My
eyes bore into the back of the retreating figure. Willing him if
you will.
Turn around, you son of a bitch. Let me see your
face.

His head bobbed, shoulders twisted their way
through a crowd without the intention of dispersal.

But for a split second, he turned, and I
glimpsed blinding white… something.

“Helen?”

“Oh Jesus,” I said.

Maya grabbed my arm. “Are you all right?” I
saw the next word on the tip of her tongue.
Johnny
.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really.” Bright smile
sealed the deal. “Good God, we stop speaking for a few weeks and
you go all maternal on me.”

“Should you be out here?”

No question about it. Yes.

“I’m keeping you from determining cause of
death.”

Maya grinned. “I’d say the absence of his
head is pretty definitive. I can rubber stamp this one,
cupcake.”

“Don’t call me cupcake.” The automatic reply
snuffed whatever concern still etched her brow. It did not however,
turn my attention away from the spectators. My mystery man was no
longer in sight.

“Can I call you later?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I nodded absently.

Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Hey,
you solve this one already?”

I looked at my friend, best poker face in
play. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just curious why all of these
people are out here.”

She shrugged. “Not every day a senator gets
blown away. But in any case, there are a few other things I’ve got
to do on this one before the final report is concluded. I’ll call
you later.”

I have no idea what I said to her. My focus
had come to a single pinpoint. That man, drifting away from the
crowd, drawn to turn back for one last peek at me. I still had no
idea why, or really who even, since the white that blinded me
momentarily was a thick bandage covering the side of his head. At
the same time, there was no doubt. He was watching me, and I was
too distracted for a moment to interpret the sensation clamoring
for attention.

“This isn’t over yet.” I rattled off the
names of those we already linked to this ring somehow in my head:
Gillette, Gutierrez, Preston, Gerard, Sanderfield and Sherman.
“That’s not all of you. There’s at least a seventh conspirator, and
for you, my friend, time is running out,” I mused to myself on the
short trek back to the Expedition.

I knew what had to happen next, the battle
with Johnny that loomed on the horizon. A empty promise to my
father to stay away from these people was a distant memory. I
needed to go back to the beginning, the very woman who tripped up
the operation for all of them.

I needed to find out what it was about
Melissa Sherman that made her the one person worthy of protection.
Sanderfield, with his political clout and power, was expendable in
the end. And that didn’t make sense.

Did Lyle Henderson hold the answers? Why
would he sanction the murder of a step-son, one by all accounts, he
remained very close to? I itched to find a way to talk to him, to
wring the truth from his lying throat if need be.

As I reached for the door handle on my SUV,
that niggling unease at the back of my brain burst through into my
consciousness.

I froze, hand suspended in mid-air as I saw
history flash before my eyes, the surroundings morph into a place
from my past. My heart seized in my chest.

That gait. The way the shoulders twisted and
moved. The shock of hair… yes, it was all familiar to me. Too
familiar.

“No,” I said. “It can’t be. It
can’t
be him!”

Johnny’s hand reached around me and opened
the door. “You okay, sweetheart? Please tell me you and Maya aren’t
still at odds.”

His voice snagged me out of a vortex of
panic. At least momentarily. Absently, I shook my head. “No,
Johnny, everything’s fine.”

And again, the opportunity for a fresh and
honest start with my husband was lost. My eyes scanned the crowd
one last time, for one more glimpse of he who could not be, as
Johnny drove away from the latest dead end in the mystery of my
life.