Sam looked back at the vastness of the ocean, the endless water and sky. In a few hours, traffic would begin to move, the beach would slowly fill, the all-nighters would leave the casinos and the early-morning crowds would arrive. And the local and state authorities would continue to sift through the remains of the Royal Belle for evidence. They'd keep questioning employees and patrons alike, hoping someone could shed some light on whoever had planted the bombs.
Awaking with a start, Jeannie sat straight up in bed, her mouth forming a silent cry. She glanced down at her body, then at her bed and around the room. Someone had removed her clothes, slipped on her gown and put her to bed. Sam? She smiled. Sam and Ollie.
A soft breeze surrounded her, chilling her bare arms. She hugged herself, took in a deep breath and blinked her eyes several times. The room lay in semidarkness, the only light coming from the windows, the faint, rosy illumination of daybreak.
She saw Sam standing on the balcony, his broad shoulders slightly drooped. He's tired, she thought, and worried. He wore dark slacks, slightly wrinkled. Had he slept beside her during the night? She had a vague memory of being held in his arms, a faded recollection of his wiping away her tears.
Usually the epitome of the well-dressed gentleman, Sam looked a bit disheveled in his wrinkled slacks, the tails of his pale blue shirt hanging around his hips, his hair windblown.
She searched the room, looking for a walking cane. Her favorite, a gift from Miriam, had probably burned inside the Royal Belle. Jeannie shuddered at the memory, the sound of the explosions echoing in her ears as well as the cries of wounded people. So many people in pain.
She wanted to go to Sam, to tell him that she was all right and that she forgave him for being so bossy and high-handed. She'd been so tired, so completely drained, that she hadn't been rational. Sam had done the right thing in forcing her to leave the disaster area.
Moving to the side of the bed, Jeannie slid her legs off the edge. She had no idea how she looked. She couldn't see a mirror from where she sat. Threading her fingers through her hair, she combed it to each side, allowing the mass to fall down her back. She lifted the twisted bodice of her gown to properly cover her breasts and smoothed out the wrinkles over her stomach and legs.
"Sam." Her voice sounded weak and very faint, even to her own ears.
He turned quickly. The moment he saw her, his lips curved into that seldom-used but devastating smile. "Jeannie." With a few giant steps, he was at her side, kneeling, slipping his arms around her.
She cradled his head in her lap and caressed his head, her fingers brushing over the stubble of his cheeks. He hadn't shaved, she realized. Since when? How long had she been asleep?
"This isn't the morning after the casino bombing, is it?" she asked.
Lifting his head, he looked up into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to protect her from the world, from all the ugliness, from a truth he could not change. "You've been asleep over twenty-four hours. Do you remember fainting in the back of the ambulance?"
"Yes, sort of. I remember telling you I'd never forgive you if you made me leave."
"I did what I thought was best for you. I brought you home." Sam rose to his feet, then sat down beside her on the bed. "Ollie undressed you and washed you and put you in your gown while I took a shower and changed clothes."
"You've stayed with me all this time, haven't you? You even slept with me last night."
"How do you know all that?"
"I sensed your presence." She leaned against him; he put his arm around her waist.
"How do you feel?" He kissed her forehead.
"Tired. But I'm all right."
"You did too much."
"It was a horrible disaster. So many injured people." She clutched Sam's hand. "Did anyone die?"
Sam took a deep breath. "Two of the casino's security men didn't make it off the riverboat. They were caught in the bottom-deck explosion. Only those two. There are about a dozen in critical condition, but, luckily, we had evacuated almost the entire casino when the bombs exploded."
"Have the police arrested Maynard Reeves?"
"They have no evidence against Reeves."
"But I know he's responsible." She bit her fingers into Sam's arm, tugging on his sleeve. "I sensed all those horrible emotions inside him. He couldn't block what he was feeling."
"I know, Jeannie. I know." Sam tried to soothe her, stroking her back with one hand while he cupped her chin in the other. "But they can't arrest Reeves just because you say you sensed his guilt."
She pulled away from Sam, covering her face with her hands as she bowed her head. She sat there for several minutes, then tossed back her head, squared her shoulders and turned to Sam. "I need some fresh air. Find me a cane, please. And walk out on the balcony with me."
"I can carry you outside." He stood, but before he could lift her, she threw up her hand to stop him.
"I want to walk." She nodded toward the huge, ornately carved wardrobe. "Look in the wardrobe. There should be two or three canes in there."
Sam obeyed her command without hesitation. He'd learned that sometimes it was easier not to fight Jeannie, especially when she was damned and determined to have her own way. He retrieved a black metal walking stick, with a gold tip and a fancy flower design engraved on the handle.
Handing her the cane, he watched while she positioned the tip on the floor and lifted herself to her feet. He walked behind her, not touching her, and followed her out onto the balcony. The downstairs veranda and the upstairs balcony surrounded the three-story antebellum-style house on all four sides.
"I never tire of looking at the ocean," she said. "This is a beautiful view, but nothing to compare with the view from the veranda of my house on Le Bijou Bleu."
Mention of the island where Sam had washed ashore six years ago brought back painful memories to him. Memories he had tried to erase from his mind.
"We should go to your island," Sam said. "There, I might be able to keep you safe."
She shivered from the chill of the early-morning breeze as it tickled her bare arms and shoulders. "Maynard Reeves wants to kill me, and he doesn't seem to care how many people he has to destroy to do it."
Sam wrapped his arms around her. "Julian told me that only a handful of people even know about Le Bijou Bleu, that when your parents bought the island they used it as a retreat and kept its location a secret."
"Julian's right. Other than Julian and I, and of course Manton, only our lawyer and Marta even know about the island. I've used the place as my personal retreat all these years. When Miriam was dying, we visited Le Bijou Bleu several times. The trip always seemed to revitalize her."
"You'd take her to the island and suffer her pain for her, wouldn't you?" Sam hugged Jeannie fiercely. "You'd take her away so that Julian wouldn't have to see the two of you in pain."
"I loved Miriam like a mother." Jeannie sighed. "She was far more a mother to me than my own ever was."
"Are you willing to go to Le Bijou Bleu and stay as long as it takes to free yourself from Reeves?" Sam asked.
"What if he won't give up? What if he waits us out? You have a life of your own, Sam. I can't expect you to move to Le Bijou Bleu and live with me indefinitely."
"We're digging into Reeves's past. Somewhere there has to be some information that will help us put a stop to him. Otherwise…"
She gripped Sam's forearms where they crisscrossed her waist. "Otherwise what?"
"Otherwise we'll have to find another way to get rid of the man."
"I can't help but believe that God will punish him. He has committed so much evil in God's name. What greater sin could there be?"
"I'll make arrangements for us to leave Biloxi immediately. The sooner I can get you out of Reeves's grasp, the better."