Twenty-Four

When Kate woke, it took her a while to adjust. She was in a hard wooden chair, her body stiff from lack of movement, and her arms were behind her. When she tried to move, she found her wrists were tied together. From what she could feel, it was one of those plastic zip ties that could hardly be cut with scissors, much less by a human.

With her Realtor eye, she looked around the cabin. It was thirty or forty years old at least and seemed to be just two rooms. She was in the middle of the big, open living room facing a heavy wooden table with mismatched chairs. At the end was a kitchen with old cabinets and heavy iron hardware.

I bet Dan's company made those, she thought.

Twisting as far as she could, she saw two closed doors. She'd seen a bed, so the other one was probably a bath.

The place reeked of male. This cabin was a place where men gathered and smoked cigars and fried fish. There was no TV and she doubted if a cell phone had ever been allowed to enter.

By the light through the dirty windows, it looked to be early evening. Six, maybe. She was beginning to remember how she got there. The woman! Who was she?

She wondered if anyone was searching for her. Would Jack want to know where she was? Or would he say she'd probably run off with a pastry chef and would return in the wee hours? But Aunt Sara might make him get off the couch and go look for Kate. How long before they found her car? Before they asked Tayla? Before—Behind her, she heard a door open and footsteps. It took some willpower, but she didn't turn to see who it was. Quiet! she told herself. Don't panic. Delay as long as you can.

"A bath made me feel better," said a voice behind her.

Kate kept her eyes straight ahead while the woman came into view. She was the shape of the Mrs. Richardson Kate had met, but there was a drastic change in her looks. Her blond hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, and the color looked natural. The dark tone of her skin was gone. Her plain clothes had been replaced with designer wear.

With the change of colors and attire, Kate knew who she was: Alastair's mother.

Norma? No. Noreen.

She stood a few feet in front of Kate and for a moment stared at her. "Do I need to introduce myself?"

"I think you're Mrs. Stewart."

"Yes. Alastair's mother."

At the name, there was a flash of anger in her eyes. With uncles like hers, Kate was experienced with rage. Her uncles expected to be obeyed, and when they weren't, they allowed their self-righteous anger to burst into flame. This woman was wearing the same expression as those men.

Whatever I do, Kate thought, I don't want to challenge her. Don't want to send her over the edge. Time is what I need. Time to let Aunt Sara and Jack find me.

Kate swallowed. "I'd really like to hear the truth of what happened."

"My son did not kill those women."

"That's why he was released. I think the evidence proves that he wasn't there when they died."

Mrs. Stewart nodded at that but kept silent. Casually, as though it meant nothing, she reached behind a stack of old magazines and picked up a pistol. It looked heavy enough to use in a weight-lifting class.

Mrs. Stewart tossed it from one hand to the other. "Isn't this thing awful? It belonged to my late husband. Made him feel like a man. As if anything could do that."

"You're saying he wasn't like Alastair."

"Like my beautiful son? Not at all." She took her cell phone out of the pocket of her white linen trousers. "My son is supposed to call me. I'm letting him decide what to do with you."

"Oh" was all Kate could say. The man they had turned in to the sheriff as a murderer was to decide her fate. "Who did kill the Morris women?"

"Oh. That." Mrs. Stewart put the big pistol down on the table. "No one killed them. Not really." She walked to the far side of the room and turned on two lamps. "I hate this place. Always did. Hamish wanted us to spend our honeymoon here. Can you imagine?"

Kate thought that with a good cleaning she'd love to stay there, but decided not to say so. "You've lived in Lachlan a long time."

"Too long, but in my day, children obeyed their parents. My father—now, there was a man! He told me where I was to live, who I was to marry, and I did it."

"But your husband wasn't the right man for you?"

"Hamish was a fool. Weak beyond imagining. I hated him. But he did give me Alastair. My beautiful son only made one mistake in his whole life, but I managed to repair the damage—until Jack Wyatt and you and...and that Sara Medlar came along. Did you know that in high school she used to make fun of me? She told Hamish not to marry me. Me! Can you imagine?"

"Tell me about the error Alastair made. I mean, there's nothing to do while we wait."

She toyed with the gun for a moment, seeming to try to decide what to do. "My son explained the truth of it all to me. They willed what happened to them. It was as though she—the older one—wanted me to finish it for her. It was like she was done. She'd had enough."

"I'd really like to hear that story." Kate's voice was sincere. "I want to understand."

Mrs. Stewart checked her phone again and gave a sigh. No calls. Kate wondered if there was a signal and if Mrs. Stewart knew how to tell if there was. Kate didn't know South Florida well enough to be able to guess how far they were from Lachlan. She'd slept through the drive and couldn't calculate. "Have you ever told anyone?"

"Of course not."

"Then the truth must be building inside you."

The woman sat down in a big padded chair near the window. "Actually, it's all been a relief. Before all this happened, I thought about the past a great deal. But afterward, with each one, I felt better."

Each one?Kate thought but didn't say out loud. "As hard as we searched, we could find out very little."

"Of course not. It was all taken care of long ago. There were loose ends but we managed to tie them off."

We?Kate thought. "Would you tell me the truth? While we wait? Please?"

Mrs. Stewart took a moment to decide. "I will tell you what my darling son told me." She took a breath. "Then me. It was not my fault. My husband... That woman..."

"Yes," Kate whispered. "I understand."

Noreen sneered. "No one can understand what was done to me. No one seems to think about me in all this."

"Alastair does," Kate said softly.

She smiled. "Yes, he does." For a moment she closed her eyes. "I guess I should start at the beginning of that night. Start with what my son told me."