He attempted to draw her back into his arms; she resisted. “Can I ask you something, Leo?”
“Ask away.”
“What happened to you and Kay? It’s obvious you care for each other.”
He shrugged. “We’re too different…we grew apart. I don’t know, maybe we lost the spark that kept us working at it.”
“How long were you married?”
“Thirteen years.” He laughed. “Kay hung in there longer than most would have.”
When they stopped laughing, so did Alice.
“Kay and I are like Wonderland. Order and chaos. The sane and insane. The insanity finally overwhelmed her.”
She had wanted the divorce. He had driven her crazy.
He still loved his wife, Stacy realized.
She slipped her hands from his. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“There’s no reason we can’t be together.”
“I think there is, Leo. I’m not ready. And I don’t think you are, either.”
When he opened his mouth as if to argue, she held up a hand, stopping him. “Please, Leo. Just leave it alone.”
“For the moment, okay. But I won’t promise to stay away forever.”
Stacy backed toward the door, grasped the handle, turned and walked through.
And ran smack into Troy.
He put a hand on her elbow to steady her. “Whoa. Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Hey, Troy.” Flustered, she took a step back. “Sorry, mind’s elsewhere.”
“No problemo. Catch you later.”
It wasn’t until much later that she wondered why Troy had been right outside Leo’s door. And if he had been eavesdropping.
CHAPTER 39
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Midnight
Stacy stood at her bedroom window. Moonlight illuminated the side garden and yard. The storm of two nights ago had left everything lush and green.
She couldn’t sleep. She had tossed and turned for the last hour, then had given up. It wasn’t the bed. Or the pillow.
It was a feeling of unease. Of not belonging. Here, in this house. In this city, the UNO graduate program.
In her own skin.
She frowned. How had she gotten herself to this place? She had come to New Orleans for a fresh start. To change her life for the better.
Now look at her. Embroiled in a murder investigation. A target in a killer’s twisted game. She had been attacked. Her home broken into, a cat’s bloody head left as a gift. A friend had been murdered; she had found the body. She was on the verge of flunking out of graduate school.
And her boss had made a pass at her.
Which was when she thought of Spencer. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d called to tell her about Pogo. At first she’d assumed him busy with the investigation. Now she wondered if he had shut her out.
She would have done the same. Back when she had been a cop.
What was keeping her here? She missed Jane. And little Apple Annie, growing and changing every day. Her life was unarguably more screwed up now than it had been in Dallas. She could resign from the graduate program, pack her stuff and head home.
Tuck tail and run? Leave Cassie’s death unsolved and Leo and his family unprotected?
The last affected her like a kick to the gut. She was not the Noble family protector. It wasn’t her job. It was the NOPD’s and Malone’s.
Damn it. Then why did she feel responsible for them? And for finding Cassie’s killer? Why did she always feel like she had to take care of the whole friggin’ world?
Because that day at the lake, she hadn’t taken care of Jane.
The memory of that day came rushing back, as clear as if it had been yesterday instead of almost twenty years ago. The sounds of Jane’s screams. Of her own. The frigid water as Stacy had launched herself in. The blood. Later the way her parents had looked at Stacy. Accusingly. Disappointed.
She had been seventeen, Jane fifteen. She should have taken better care of her. She should have been more responsible. It had been her fault it happened.
No, damn it. Stacy shook her head as if for emphasis, as if to convince herself. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been a kid that day at the lake. Jane didn’t blame her; why should she blame herself?
A movement in the garden below drew her gaze. A man, she realized. Heading toward the guest house.
She reached for her gun, tucked into the night table drawer. As she curled her fingers around the grip, Kay emerged from the guest house. Light spilled into the garden. She ran to the man. He took her into his arms.
Not Leo, she recognized immediately. But who? she wondered, straining to make out the man’s identity. When she couldn’t, as quietly as possible, she lifted her window. The couple’s voices carried on the night air. Kay’s husky laugh. The man’s murmured endearment.
Not Leo. Clark.
Kay Noble was having an affair with Alice’s tutor.
She watched the two stroll toward the guest house, then disappear inside. For a moment they were silhouetted against the window, embracing.
In the next instant, the window went black.
Stacy set the Glock carefully back in the drawer and slid it shut, thoughts racing. The pairing didn’t completely surprise her. Clark was intelligent, worldly. An academic.
Anemic, she thought. Compared to Leo.
Or Malone, God help her.
But maybe that was the point. If what Leo had told her about his and Kay’s relationship was true.
If? Now, why would she think that?
And why did knowing the woman and Clark were having an affair seem so wrong?
Kay and Leo were divorced. But Clark was an employee. Kay’s daughter’s tutor.
And Leo was so obviously still in love with the woman.
Stacy closed the window and turned away from it. Was her affair the reason Kay had refused to move into the main house? Had she carried on with Clark when Alice was there? Surely not.
The teenager was bright, intuitive. She must at least suspect the affair.
Stacy frowned as her thoughts turned to Alice. She spent an inordinate amount of time on her computer, day and night. Every so often, the sound of Alice’s computer announcing an instant message awakened her.
Alice, it seemed, had inherited her father’s sleep habits.
Before Stacy had finished processing that thought, a crash came from the adjoining room. Followed by a cry.
Heart lurching to her throat, Stacy retrieved the Glock and ran into the hall and across to Alice’s door. She tried the door, found it locked and rapped on it.
“Alice,” she called, “are you all right?”
The teenager didn’t reply and she pressed her ear to the door.
Silence.
“I heard you cry out. Are you all right?”
“Go away! I’m fine.”
Her voice sounded funny. Shaky and high-pitched. Stacy’s mouth went dry.
“Open this door, Alice. I need to see for myself that you’re unhurt. If you don’t I’ll-”
The door opened. Alice stood before her, eyes red and face blotchy from crying. Otherwise, she appeared unhurt.
Stacy peered around her. The room looked empty. A figurine lay in pieces on the floor.
Alice had been crying. The crash the result of a fit of temper. Typical teenage drama.
Stacy felt more than a little silly. “I heard the crash and what I thought was a cry and-”
“Is that a-” Alice bit the words back, eyes widening. “Oh, my God, you’ve got a gun.”
“It’s not how it looks.”
The teenager sprang backward. “Stay away from me, you psycho.”
“I’m not a psycho, Alice. And there’s a reasonable explanation for-”
The girl slammed the door in her face. Stacy heard the lock click into place.
Stacy stared at the closed door a moment, a bemused smile tugging at her mouth.