“Lillian Withers suffered a fatal heart attack late last night.”
At first the words didn’t ring clear to Vince. He stood at the motel room’s desk, holding the receiver to his damp face. Then it registered and he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His haunted eyes stared back at him. “You’ve got to be kidding.” His heart began thudding hard in his chest.
“I’m afraid not.” Detective Jacob’s voice was weary, heavy with the bearing of bad news. “She was found this morning by Reverend Powell.”
Vince was still trying to grasp the concept of Lillian Withers dead. How could she be dead? He’d just seen her yesterday. Had made preliminary plans with her regarding his mother’s funeral service. She’d told him that he was family to her, something he always felt. And now she was dead.
He took a deep breath, the loss burrowing in his chest. His limbs felt numb, shaky. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes to will away the pain that was beginning to pulsate.
“Vince? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. He opened his eyes. “I’m fine.” He felt far from fine. He felt like he wanted to scream.
“Vince?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”
“Thank you.” Vince hung up the phone. He sat down on the bed and looked out the window. Then he got up and went back to the bathroom and finished shaving. When he was finished, he got dressed and drove to Reverend Powell’s house to begin the long, painful process of burying his mother and Lillian Withers.
ARRANGING ONE FUNERAL was bad enough. Arranging two proved to be tiresome.
Vince Walters spent the entire day arranging both services with Reverend Powell. The Reverend was still in a state of shock over Lillian’s sudden death, but he proved to be a valuable asset in arranging the services. The County Medical Examiner declared that there was no need for an autopsy on Lillian, since his preliminary investigation appeared that all avenues pointed to a heart attack. That left Vince and Reverend Powell to plan the ceremony for the following day at noon at the makeshift chapel connected to his comfortable little house on Mill Lane, a mere mile from his mother’s home. Reverend Powell made the necessary phone calls to the rest of the congregation and the few townspeople Maggie and Lillian were friendly with. Vince spent the day assisting Reverend Powell, ordering the flowers and making arrangements with the caterers for the wake. When he was finished, he waited with Reverend Powell and John Van Zant at the church for the coroner to deliver the bodies. They were delivered in matching coffins—Vince had made the arrangements on the phone for their purchase and put the charges on his American Express card. The undertaker’s description of the caskets was sufficient enough for him. Both caskets were to be oak, painted white with brass fittings and velvet interiors. That was enough to satisfy Vince.
By the time they were finished for the day, he was beat. He retreated to the motel and promptly fell into bed without disrobing.
He couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, tossing and turning. His mind was just too busy going over the last few days. He felt restless, so he rose to his feet and turned on the bedside light. He had to get this off his chest. He crossed the room to the small desk where he’d stowed his leather knapsack. He pulled out his cell phone, turned it on, and scrolled through the numbers until he found what he was looking for.
He hit auto-dial, hoping she was home.
Tracy Harris answered on the third ring.
“Tracy,” Vince said, relieved that she was home. “It’s Vince.”
“Vince? How are you? You’re in Pennsylvania, right? Hey, Brian told me what happened. I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Thanks.” Now with the phone cradled to his shoulder, Vince wished Tracy were here with him. It was the first time he’d felt such a need for her and he realized with a small amount of fear that he was falling for her in a way he never thought he would. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” He asked.
“No. How’s everything going back there?” Tracy’s voice came through clear. She sounded concerned.
“It’s okay. I guess I just need somebody to talk to.”
“Well, here I am.” He thought he could detect a smile in the tone of her voice.
“Here you are.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” His heart fluttered in his chest, and he realized he was treading into dangerous territory. Am I falling in love with her? And is she falling in love with me? Because if that’s the case, I don’t know if I can handle it.
He told Tracy about everything that had happened the past few days. He left out the grisly details of his mother’s murder, telling her that the detectives appeared to believe a burglar killed her. He hated lying to her, but he wanted to tell her about the strange symbols in person. Doing it over the phone seemed too impersonal. He also told her about Lillian Withers’ unexpected heart attack. Tracy gasped in surprise at the news. “Wow! That’s horrible!” After Vince wrapped it up, she asked the inevitable. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“The day after tomorrow. We’re having the funeral tomorrow. Needless to say, I guess I’m kinda shaken up.”
“I would say you are. Are you going back to work Monday?”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe you should take the day off. Get a chance to regroup. Rest.”
“I don’t know,” he said, dreading the thought of all the work that would have piled up in his absence. “I’ve already taken a ton of vacation time this year.”
“Forget about what kind of time you have left,” she said. “I think you could really use the rest.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’ll take the day off, too,” she murmured. “We could spend the day together.”
A smile creased Vince’s weary face. “Ah, bribery.”
“I’ll give you a nice long back rub.”
“And?”
“Make long slow love to you.”
Hearing that brought a sudden flush of warmth through him. This was the first time that physical intimacy was mentioned in conversation between them. So she wants me as much as I want her, then, Vince thought. “I think you’ve convinced me.”
“Wonderful.”
“I’m glad I called. I feel better already.”
“Good.”
He leaned back in the chair. “This trip has been so weird, Tracy. Maybe taking Monday off will be a good thing. It’ll take the whole day just to tell you everything that I’ve found out.”
“Such as?”
“For the first time in my life I’m curious as to where I really came from.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was eight my mother packed me up in the middle of the night and we left the house we were living in with my father and just took off. No word of explanation. I don’t think we took anything with us, just the clothes on our backs. My mother had money and she bought us new stuff, but… it was just so weird. I’ve never thought about it ’til now.”
“Does your father know your mother’s been killed?”
“I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he was my father. We moved to New York and then we moved to Canada the following year. Mom found God, and things were never the same.”
“Your mom became a religious fanatic? You never told me about this.” Tracy sounded very interested.
Vince shrugged, cradling the receiver in his ear. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you about myself. Some of it I’m just now starting to learn.”
There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, Tracy said: “You don’t know who her family is, do you?”
“No.”
“And you don’t know much else about your past before she left for New York with you.”