A Wedding To Die For

“Why not wait and see what happens? If Roxanne is making this up, the chief will figure it out,” I said.

Travis reached over and took Megan’s hand. “Abby’s right.”

“I hope so,” Megan replied. But she didn’t sound convinced.

They left a few minutes later, the rain again reduced to drizzle. But the temperature had dropped a wicked twenty degrees in the last hour. I hurried upstairs and put on a sweatshirt, then adjusted the thermostat. But a chill lingered, one that seemed to come not from the change in weather but rather from my own discomfort.

Megan and Travis’s visit had unsettled me. These were two people I had come to care for, but they were both unraveling under the stress and revealing parts of themselves I wasn’t sure I liked. The once soft, sweet Megan seemed as nervous as a horse on a high wire. And Travis? The guy was a seething pot of emotion. Understandable? Sure. But still troubling.

Diva had followed me downstairs, and recalling the breaking glass, I decided I’d better see what she’d destroyed this week. Another sugar bowl? A glass she just had to stick her snout in?

Nothing seemed amiss in the kitchen, so I checked the laundry room—no problems there—and then decided she must have done her damage in the small glassed-in terrace. I flipped on the light switch by the entry, and sure enough, a Mason jar filled with clothespins that had been sitting on the picnic table now lay in pieces on the tile. I took one step into the room and stopped.

I wasn’t alone.

20

“I like your cat,” said an unfamiliar female voice. “Very friendly, but a little clumsy.”

I took a step back, wondering how quickly I could get to the phone.

“I have a gun, so don’t think about calling for help,” the woman said. She’d been sitting in one of the wicker chairs in the shadowed corner, but now stood. I saw a flash of silver in her hand.

As Daddy used to say, there is nothing more convincing than the business end of gun. I didn’t move.

She walked to the center of the room until she was under the ceiling fan light—and I was suddenly glad I hadn’t made that call.

“I’ve been dying to meet you,” I said, “but please don’t take that literally.”

Laura Montgomery smiled with all the self-assurance holding a weapon can provide. She wore a green sweater, the shoulders soaked with rain. Not exactly warm enough clothing for tonight’s weather, but you don’t need many warm clothes in Jamaica, so her wardrobe was probably limited. She’d skipped the hat, and curved tendrils of damp hair clung to both cheeks. Her gun hand was mottled by the cold—a small-caliber gun, similar to the .22 Daddy bought me for my sixteenth birthday, the one I wished was in my pocket rather than in my office.

“Now that the newlyweds are gone, I hope you’ll take a little friendly advice,” she said.

“Friendly? With a weapon in your hand?”

“I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I’d receive. After all, I did break into your house. Damn easy by the way.”

“Turnabout is fair play,” I said.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Nice little place you’ve got in Jamaica,” I said, adding a tad of my own arrogance.

Her voice edged with anger, she said, “You are a very busy young woman. That’s why we need to talk.”

“You don’t need a gun for that. I’m happy to sit down and—”

“No, thank you. We’ll talk right here, right now.”

“Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Tell me what your relationship is to my daughter.”

“Simple. She hired me to find you.”

That cracked her “I’m tough-as-nails” demeanor. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ve been looking for you for months. She wanted her mother at her wedding. Apparently she got her wish.”

“S-she knew about me?” I’d apparently pressed her panic button because her face had paled.

But I was a little confused. “That’s why you came out of hiding, right? To attend your daughter’s wedding?”

“Yes, but not because—are you saying she knows everything about me? Knew I was there that day?”

Ah. Now I understood. “No. She doesn’t know much of anything yet—how you’re a fugitive, how you’ve been following her. That kind of information has to wait for just the right moment, and with her father murdered and her uncle dead, now is not the time.”

“I’m truly sorry about all that’s happened,” she said, but I sensed she was distracted, was trying to figure something out.

“You’re sorry?” I said. “Sorry you killed them?”

She flinched, stared at me. “From what I overheard between the three of you here tonight, someone else wants to take responsibility for those deaths. And that’s the best news I’ve had since I arrived in Texas. I can go home now.”

“Go home?” I offered a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t think the police will let that happen.”

Renewed fear flickered in her eyes. “So you’ve told them about me?”

“I sure tried to tell them, but that’s a long story. Maybe we can make a little deal here. You tell me what I want to know, and maybe I’ll delay reporting your reappearance to the police.”

“A deal? If you think I killed two men, what’s to stop me from killing you?” She raised the gun a few inches to emphasize the point.

What would stop her? I was reading desperation in her tense face and scared eyes, and desperate people do crazy things. The only defense I had was what I had learned in the last few weeks, so I kept talking. “You care way too much about your daughter to kill one of her friends—and I am her friend.”

That got her. Her shoulders sagged. “I didn’t even know she was alive until a few weeks ago.”

“You thought she died at birth.”

“And I suppose you also know that bastard stole my daughter? She was the only reason I ran before my court date. I wasn’t about to have a baby while I was in prison, have my child end up in foster care. And it turns out, she was the only thing that could bring me back here. I swear, if James had been in the room when I learned how he’d taken my child, I would have killed him with my bare hands.”

And I believed her. Revisiting her anger had her tensing up, and her grip on the gun seemed viselike now. Did she even know how to use it? An untrained person holding a gun is about the scariest thing on earth. “Listen, I don’t plan on running for the phone or screaming for the neighbors, so could you put the gun down?”

But she was so wound up she started waving the weapon instead, riding her emotions like some freaked-out kid on a roller coaster. “Can you believe what he did to me? How could anyone be that cruel? I lost my daughter and thought it was somehow my fault she died. I believed I deserved what happened, thought I had to be punished for the crime I’d committed.”

Adrenaline spilled into my blood and made my skin prickle with the tension. Keeping my eyes on the .22, I said, “I realize Megan was raised by your worst enemy, but—”

“Her name was Claire.”

“Right,” I said softly. “Claire. But she’s very much alive. A beautiful young woman. Kind and loving. And I know she wants to meet you in the worst way.”

Obviously not the right words. She pointed the gun at my chest. “That will never happen. You will not tell her about me.”

“Okay. Sure. But—”

“Liar,” she spat. “You’ll tell her the first chance you get if I let you live.”

“So kill me, then,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. “But one way or another, she’ll find out. She’s determined to learn the truth about you, and if I’m dead, she’ll find someone else to help her.”