“I see that name does ring a bell,” she said softly.
Claire studied him, and what she saw in his eyes devastated her. She hadn’t realized until that moment how badly she’d wanted to believe it was all some terrible mistake. Their marriage was over, but she still cared about him, had once loved him. How could she not have known what he was capable of?
He said nothing for a long time, and then his gaze slowly lifted to hers. “Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove?”
“It’s all true, isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes. Now I understand why you didn’t want to believe me about the doll and the connection to Mignon Bujold’s murder. You were afraid if Ruby’s case was reopened, all this would come out.”
“Claire, I didn’t have anything to do with her kidnapping. You have to believe that.”
“You didn’t take her. I believe that. But you weren’t above using her disappearance to cover up a murder. You made those calls to Dave, knowing that he would do anything to bring his daughter home. You used his grief and desperation to protect a cold-blooded killer, and now you’re going to have to pay for what you did. You won’t be able to lie or charm your way out of this. It’s all coming out. Nettle has already talked to the D.A., so you may as well admit to me what you did.”
He glanced down at his drink, seemed to consider for a moment what he wanted to say to her before he spoke. “Even if I was there the night Renee Savaria was killed, that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with her death. I would never lay a hand on a woman, Claire, you know that. But that wouldn’t have mattered to the press. Every cop there would have been crucified. What good would have come from wasting all those careers?”
Claire felt something inside her go dark as she looked at him. It was like turning the light off in a roomful of memories. The man before her was a complete stranger.
“Nothing I did changed anything,” he said. “Ruby was already dead. You know the statistics as well as I do. Twenty-four to forty-eight hours, Claire. I did everything I could to find her, but she was already dead.”
“You don’t know that! She could have still been alive when you placed those phone calls. Dave might have been able to find her if you hadn’t made him think her kidnapping was connected to Renee Savaria’s murder.”
“You still don’t see it, do you?” Alex’s smile was sad. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Dave. It’s always been about him.”
Claire shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“You’re still trying to make him the good guy so it justifies your feelings for him. He is what he is, Claire, and one of these days you’re finally going to have to accept that Dave Creasy is your cross to bear. Just like Renee Savaria is mine.”
Claire didn’t slam the door behind her, but somehow the soft click of the latch seemed even more final to Alex. She hadn’t been angry when she left. There had been no emotion in her exit at all, just that one brief click and it was over. Done. Claire Doucett was no longer a part of his life.
He told himself to get up, finish dressing and plan a course of action. If Nettle had already talked to the D.A., then Alex probably had a day or two at the most to find a good attorney to get him out of this mess.
Instead, he remained on the arm of the couch, ice melting in his drink, as he stared out the window.
He sensed a presence in the hallway, and he turned to find Charlotte leaning against the door, arms folded, as she watched him. She was fully dressed, looking exactly the way she had when she’d walked through his door a few hours ago. Except for her hair. It was still mussed from the pillow.
“Is it true?”
He mustered up a vague denial as he drained his glass. “Don’t believe everything you hear. You know how Claire is. She has a vivid imagination.”
“I didn’t hear you deny her allegations.”
“You didn’t hear me admit to anything, either, did you?”
“I heard enough to draw some pretty damning conclusions.”
“Conclusions don’t mean much in court. And somehow I don’t think you want to get on that witness stand and subject yourself to a hostile cross-examination. Could get pretty nasty with Claire in the courtroom.”
“I doubt it will come to that.” Charlotte gave him a faint smile as she held up her cell phone. “I just spoke to Lee Elliot. He corroborated everything Claire said here tonight. You’d better find yourself a damn good lawyer, Alex, because you are in some serious trouble.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you. Every story has two sides.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“What I told Claire was right, you know. Nothing I did changed anything.”
Now it was Charlotte who gave him a pitying smile. “You’re wrong about that. It changed you, Alex. It turned you into someone that Claire could never fall in love with. And somehow I think that might be the most fitting punishment of all for you.”
She left the apartment as silently as her sister had, and still Alex didn’t move. Through a break in the buildings outside his window, he could see the shimmer of lights on a barge on the river, and he listened for the foghorns that he could sometimes hear at night before he drifted off. The plaintive sound always left him lonely and longing for something that seemed just out of his reach. He’d always thought it was Claire he missed, but now he knew that what he’d really been searching for all these years was his soul.
When had he become one of the bad guys? Alex wondered. The transformation had been so subtle, he hadn’t seen it coming. One bribe, one payoff, the first time he’d agreed to look the other way. When had his ambition convinced him that in the scheme of things, none of that really mattered? The bigger picture was all that counted.
And then, as the years went by, it became about survival—covering his ass. One thing led to another until he hadn’t worried so much about right and wrong anymore, and somewhere along the way, he’d started to think of himself as immune, untouchable.
And now the sins of his past were all catching up with him.
The barge disappeared and the sounds of traffic outside his window faded. He got up to turn off the light, then went back to his place on the couch, a strange lightness in his limbs. The apartment was empty and silent, and for the first time in years, Alex Girard sat alone in the dark with his conscience.
Dave had been home for a long time, but he hadn’t felt like going up to bed yet. When he first got in, he’d fixed himself something to eat and turned on the television, watched a movie straight through and then the news. When he started nodding off, he carried his plate into the kitchen, rinsed it off in the sink, then went upstairs to shower.
Crawling into bed, he stretched out his legs, trying to relax, but it took a long time for the tension to drain out of him. He’d just managed to drift off when the sound of a car in his drive startled him awake. He got up and went over to the window to see who it was.
He recognized the car, and he watched as the door opened and Claire got out. She looked up at the house, but Dave didn’t think she could see him in the window. He hadn’t turned on the light. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he went downstairs to let her in.
She was still coming across the yard when he stepped out on the porch. She heard the door and faltered. “Dave?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Moonlight flooded the yard and a mild breeze drifted through the trees. He could see the gleam of her hair, hear the swish of her skirt as she started toward the porch.
He reached over and unlatched the screen, realizing suddenly that he was nervous. “Are you okay?”
“I guess so.” She climbed the steps and Dave held the door open for her, but she hesitated. “I got you out of bed, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t asleep. What brings you out here at this hour?”
She smiled apologetically as she stepped up on the porch. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”
It was a warm night, but Dave thought he could see her shiver. “You want to come inside?”
“Could we just sit out here for a while?”
“Sure.”
But she didn’t sit. Instead she walked to the end of the porch and stared out at the bayou. Dave was behind
