Chapter Twenty-Four
TWENTY-FOUR
IT was a hideous, grisly task. Twice Nathan lost his grip as he tried to free Susan Peters’s hair from the spearing branches that had trapped her body.
He went under, fiercely blanking out his mind when her arms knocked into his belly.
He could hear Jo calling him, concentrated on the desperate calm in her voice, as together they struggled to free what was left of Susan from the river.
Ignoring her lurching stomach, Jo slid farther over the bank, with the water lapping and rushing over her chin when she hooked her arms under the body. Her breath came short and shallow as for one gutwrenching moment she was face-to-face with death.
She knew the shutter in her mind had clicked, capturing the image, preserving it. Making it part of her forever.
Then she hauled, grunting, digging knees and feet into the soggy ground.
She let the body roll, couldn’t bear even to watch.
She thrust her hands out, felt Nathan’s grip them, slip, clutch again.
When he was chest-high out of the water, squirming his way free from the river, she rolled away and retched.
“Go back to the cottage.” He coughed violently, spat to clear the taste of river and death from his mouth.
“I’ll be all right.” She rocked back on her heels, felt the first hot tears flow down her icy cheeks. “I just need a minute. I’ll be all right.”
She had no more color than what they had pulled from the river did, and she was shaking so hard he was surprised he couldn’t hear her bones clattering.
“Go back to the cottage. You need dry clothes.” He closed a hand over hers.
“You have to call Sanctuary for help. We can’t leave her like this, Jo. ”
“No. No, you’re right.” Steeling herself, she turned her head. The body was paste gray and bloated, the hair dark and matted and slick with debris. But she had once been a woman. “I’ll get something to cover her. I’ll get her a blanket.”
“Can you make it on your own?”
She nodded, and though her body felt hollowed out and frighteningly brittle, she pushed herself to her feet.
She looked down at him. His face was pale and filthy, his eyes reddened from the water.
She thought of the way he’d gone into the angry river, without hesitation, without a thought for anything but what needed to be done.
“Nathan.”
He used the heel of his hand to wipe the mud off his chin, and the gesture was sharp. “What?”
“Nothing,” she murmured. “Later.”
He waited until he heard her footsteps recede, waited until he heard nothing but the roar of the river and the thud of his own laboring heart.
Then he pulled himself over to the body, forced himself to turn it, to look.
She’d been pretty once—he knew that. She would never be pretty again.
Gritting his teeth, he touched her, easing her head to the side until he could see, until he could be sure.
There, scoring her neck, were livid red bruises. He snatched his hand away, drew up his knees and pressed his face into the filthy denim of his jeans.
Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus. What was happening here?
Fear was worse than grief, sharper than guilt. And when one rolled into the other, it left the soul sickened.
Still, he had himself under control when Jo came back. She hadn’t changed her clothes, but he said nothing, just helped her spread the thin yellow blanket over the body.
“They’re coming.” She scrubbed her fingers over her mouth. “Brian and Kirby. I got Bri on the phone, told him ... told him. He said he’d bring her, a doctor, but wasn’t going to tell anyone else until ...”
She trailed off, looked helplessly into the trees. “Why would she have come up here, Nathan? Why in God’s name would she have gone into the river? Maybe she fell in the dark, hit her head. It’s horrible. I was prepared that we’d find her drowned, washed up on the beach. Somehow this is worse.”
Only yards from his door, was all he could think. Only yards from where he’d just made love to Jo. Where he had dared the gods, he thought with a hard shudder.
Had the body come downriver, or had it been put in here, so close he could almost have seen it from his kitchen window on a clear afternoon?
She slipped her hand into his, concerned that it was still icy and as lifeless as the body that lay on the bank. “You’re soaked through and frozen. Go get into dry clothes. I’ll wait for them.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you. Or her.”
Thinking of warmth and comfort, she put her arms around him.
“That was the kindest and bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.
” She pressed her lips to his throat, wanting to feel him give, respond.
“You went in for her. You could have left her, but you went in. Getting her out wouldn’t have mattered to some. ”
“It mattered.”
“To you. You’re a good man, Nathan. I’ll never forget what you did.”
He closed his eyes tight, then drew away without touching her. “They’re coming,” he said flatly. Even as he turned, Brian and Kirby came hurrying down the path.
Kirby took a quick look at both of them. “Go inside, get in a hot shower. I’ll take a look at you shortly.” She moved past them and knelt by the blanket.
Jo stood her ground. “It has to be Mrs. Peters. She was caught up on that branch. She must have fallen in sometime last night, and the storm brought her downriver.”
Jo steadied herself, reached for Nathan’s hand again as Brian knelt beside Kirby. Brian nodded grimly when Kirby folded the blanket down.
“That’s her. They came in for meals a couple of times. Goddamn it.” He sat back on his heels, scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll go find her husband. We need to take her somewhere—somewhere better than this.”
“No, she can’t be moved.” Kirby fought her words out over the thick beat of her heart. “You need to call the police and tell them to get out here quickly. I don’t believe she drowned.” Gently, she lifted the chin, exposed the raw bruising. “It looks as though she was strangled. She was murdered.”
* * *
“HOW could this be? How could this happen?” Lexy curled up tight in the corner of the couch in the family parlor. She gripped her hands together to keep herself from biting her nails. “People don’t get murdered on Desire. People just don’t. Kirby has to be wrong.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Kate switched the ceiling fan up to high to try to stir the heavy air. “The police will tell us. Either way, that poor woman’s dead, and her husband . . . Jo Ellen, stop prowling so and sit, drink that brandy. You’re bound to catch a terrible chill.”
“I can’t sit.” Jo continued to pace from window to window, though she couldn’t have said what she was looking for.
“I wish you would sit.” Lexy spoke plaintively. “You’re about to drive me to distraction. I wish Giff was here. I don’t see why he has to be down there with the others instead of here with me.”
“Oh, stop whining for five minutes,” Jo snapped. “Hold your own hand for a change.”
“Don’t. Don’t the two of you start.” Kate threw up her hands. “I can’t stand it just now.”
“And I can’t stand this waiting. I’m going back out.” Jo walked to the door. “I’ve got to see what’s happening. I’ve got to do something.”
“Jo! Don’t go out alone.” Kate pressed a hand to her head. “I’m already worried sick. Please don’t go out there alone.”
Seeing her cousin look suddenly old and shaky, Jo changed her mind. “You’re right. None of us should go out. We’re just in the way. You sit down, Kate. Come on, now.” She took Kate’s arm and led her toward the sofa beside Lexy. “You sit down and have a brandy. You’re worn out.”
“I’ll get the brandy,” Lexy said.
“Just give her mine,” Jo told Lexy as she rose. “I don’t want it.”
“If fussing over me will keep the two of you from snapping at each other, then fuss away.” She took the brandy Lexy offered her and smiled weakly. “We should have fresh coffee for when they come in. I don’t know when Brian last made any.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Lexy leaned down to kiss Kate’s cheek. “Don’t you worry.” But when she straightened she saw Giff in the doorway.
“They’re coming in. They want to talk to Jo.”
“All right.” Jo closed a hand gratefully over the one Lexy touched to her arm. “I’m ready.”
* * *
“HOW much longer will they peck at her?” Brian stood on the front porch, listening to the jungle sounds of cicadas and peepers filling the air.
“It can’t be much longer,” Kirby said quietly. “They’ve had her in there nearly an hour. They didn’t keep Nathan more than an hour.”
“She shouldn’t have to go through this. It’s bad enough she found the body, helped drag it out of the water, without having to go over and over it again.”
“I’m sure they’ll make it as easy on her as they can.” She only sighed when he whirled and scalded her with a look. “Brian, there’s nothing else to be done, no other choices to be made. A woman’s been murdered. Questions have to be asked.”
“Jo sure as hell didn’t kill her.” He threw himself down on the porch swing. “It’s easier for you. Big-city doctor. Seen it all, done it all.”
“Maybe that’s true.” She spoke coolly to mask the hurt. “But easier or harder doesn’t change the facts. Someone decided not to let Susan Peters live any longer. They used their hands and they choked the life out of her. Now questions have to be asked.”
Brian brooded into the dark. “They’ll look toward the husband now.”
“I don’t know.”
“They will. It’s the logical step. Something happens to the wife, look to the husband.
Odds are, he’s the one who did it. They looked to my father when my mother left.
Until they were satisfied she’d just . .
. left. They’ll take that poor bastard into some little room.
And questions will have to be asked. Who knows, maybe he’s the one who decided not to let Susan Peters live. ”