“Steven—”
“You didn’t stop it. Why?”
“I couldn’t,” she whimpered.
He trembled with rage. “It ruined my life!”
She covered her mouth to stifle her sobs. Her entire body was racked by them, but he bore down on her mercilessly. “Why didn’t you stop it?”
“I—”
“Why?
“Because of Howard!” she cried. “It would have destroyed him to know.”
For long moments, Steven stood there, staring into her stricken face. “It would have destroyed Howard, and you couldn’t have that. But it was okay for me to be destroyed.”
“No,” she wailed, reaching for him.
He slung off her hand.
“Steven!
She was still screaming his name as he took the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 29
Dent pulled his car to a stop in the semicircular driveway in front of the Lystons’ house. “Gall’s timing couldn’t be worse, but I asked for the meeting, so I feel like I should go.”
“You definitely should,” Bellamy said.
“I’ll make it short and sweet.”
“This is important to you, so don’t rush it on my account. Besides, I’ll be busy mending fences. When I left here yesterday everyone was upset and angry.”
“You came to me and spent the night. For that alone, they probably scratched you out of the will.”
“It was worth it,” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
They exchanged a warm look, then, remembering why they were there, she said, “They’ll want to hear about everything that happened today, and there’s a lot to tell.”
“Which is another reason why I don’t want to leave you. I hate letting you out of my sight with Strickland still at large.”
“There’s a police car parked outside the gate.”
“I’m glad of that. If the detectives hadn’t suggested it, I would have.” He looked up at the sky through the windshield. “It also looks like rain. Maybe I should wait out here while you go inside—”
“You’ll do no such thing. You braved the police station for me all day today. I appreciated your presence, especially knowing the discomfort it cost you to be there. The least I can do is brave a rain shower.”
Their parting kiss left them wanting to get their separate obligations done with so they’d be back together sooner. She waved him off, went up the steps and into the house. No one was about on the lower floor, which was surprising since she’d notified Steven that she was on her way.
She called out to him and Olivia, but it was the housekeeper Helena who appeared, coming from the direction of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Ms. Price. I was just about to leave for the day and didn’t hear you come in.”
“Where is everybody?”
“Mrs. Lyston is upstairs in her room. She asked not to be disturbed for a while.”
“And my brother?”
“He left.”
“He went out?”
“No, he and Mr. Stroud are flying back to Atlanta.”
“I thought they weren’t due to leave until tomorrow.”
“He told me they’d had a sudden change of plans.”
Sudden was an understatement. Steven must have left shortly after their telephone conversation.
Seeing Bellamy’s disappointment, the housekeeper said, “He left a note for you on the desk in Mr. Lyston’s study.”
A note. That was all she warranted? He couldn’t have delayed his departure long enough for them to say a proper good-bye?
“Do you need me for anything before I go?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you, Helena.”
“I’ll say good night then.”
Bellamy went directly into the study. The built-in bookshelves were filled with memorabilia that chronicled her father’s life, from a black-and-white photograph of him with his parents on the day of his christening to a picture taken of him just last year playing golf at Pebble Beach with the president of the United States.
But for all its comfortable clutter, the study seemed empty without him. She and her dad had enjoyed long talks in this room. It put a lump in her throat just to walk into it. Usually it represented warmth and security. Today, it was gloomy and oppressive, its dimness unrelieved by the open drapes. Outside, the sky had grown increasingly overcast.
She switched on the desk lamp as she sat down in her father’s chair. The squeak of the leather was familiar and, again, she was almost overwhelmed by a wave of homesickness for him. She was made even sadder by the envelope with her name written on it lying on the desk.
She broke the seal and read Steven’s brief note.
The message pierced her heart, making her hurt as much for him as for herself. She held the note against her lips and fought back tears. They were heartfelt, but to cry was futile. She couldn’t undo the past that had left such deep scars on her stepbrother’s soul.
Her eyes strayed to the framed photograph on the corner of her father’s desk. She wondered if Steven had noticed it when he left the note. If so, he’d probably found it as disturbing as she did.
Once, she had asked her dad why he kept this particular photograph where he would see it every day. He’d told her that it was the last picture taken of Susan, and he wanted to remember her as she looked in it: smiling and happy, alive and vibrant.
It had been taken that Memorial Day before they left for the state park. They were all decked out in their red, white, and blue clothing, which Olivia had mandated they wear for the occasion. They’d assembled on the front steps of the house, and when they were posed, their housekeeper at the time had snapped the picture.
It was similar to the Christmas family portrait only in that it revealed so much about their individual personalities. Steven look sulky. Susan was radiant. Bellamy appeared self-conscious. Olivia and Howard, standing arm in arm, smiling, looked like the embodiment of the American dream, like tragedy couldn’t touch them.
A low rumble of thunder caused Bellamy to turn her head and glance nervously out the window. Rain was spattering the panes. She rubbed her chilled arms and got up to pull the drapes. A masochistic bent forced her to look up at the sky.
The clouds were malevolent looking and greenish in color.
She closed her eyes for several seconds, and when she opened them again, saw that the clouds weren’t green at all. They were gray. Scuttling. Moisture-laden rain clouds. Nothing more.
Nothing resembling the apocalyptic sky on that afternoon eighteen years ago.
She turned back to the desk and picked up the framed family photograph, holding it directly beneath the
