Thick as Thieves - Sandra Brown Page 0,120
of Blue Bell, which he didn’t share. He’s greedy with his ice cream.”
“What about the staffer who raised the bogus alarm?”
“George sniffed her out in no time. She was young, green. Rusty had flirted with her the morning he was there, and had made an impression, so when he called and asked her to help him pull a prank—”
“A prank?”
“Well, she didn’t know any better and meant no harm. She learned a lesson, though. George is pushing for the center to adopt a stricter security policy.”
“I trust George will get it done.”
“Oh, you can count on it.”
She hesitated.
“What?”
“I wish I could have known your uncle Henry, before.”
“So do I. You would’ve liked him. Everybody did. I miss him.”
His expression was wistful and sad, and it broke her heart for him. Looking away, she stretched her neck and shoulders. She was so very tired. “Are Crystal and Marty back yet? Do they know that Rusty is over and out?”
“They do. They’re celebrating in New Orleans.”
“Is New Orleans braced for Marty?”
“I doubt it. She got a piercing.”
“On what?”
“I was afraid to ask.”
Arden smiled, then asked quietly, “Did you tell them about Lisa?”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. I figured you would rather me tell them than for them to hear a distorted version through the grapevine.”
“Yes, I would. Thank you.”
“They sent their condolences.”
Nodding, her gaze went back to the flickering candles on the mantel. They reminded her of a church altar, which prompted her to say, “Maybe I should have had a clergyman there today. Under the circumstances, it didn’t seem appropriate.”
“I don’t believe there are any rules about what’s appropriate in a situation like yours. Even if there are, it was your decision to make.”
“There were just the three of us. The funeral director, Helena, and me. For the homecoming queen.”
Her voice cracked, and she tilted toward him. His arms caught her, pulled her against his chest, and tucked her head beneath his chin. “You’ve asked about everybody else. How are you?”
“Very glad that you showed up just now.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know how you’d take to me. After knowing.”
“I take to you, Ledge.” She hugged him tighter.
“Yeah?”
“In a big way.”
“Thank Christ.”
He tipped her head back, ran his thumb over her lower lip, then kissed her like his very life depended on it. She curved her arm around his neck and, pulling her mouth free of his, gasped, “Lay me down, Ledge.”
They got to the floor. He worked her skirt up over her hips and peeled her panties away. He was only halfway done with his fly when she impatiently pushed his hands aside and finished the job.
They mated fast and feverishly, and, when she cried out his name, he gave one final push and grafted himself to her.
When both were spent, he settled onto her. Gradually they regained their senses as well as their breath. Her fingers drifted through his hair and cupped the back of his head.
“Am I a horrible person?” she whispered.
He raised his head and looked down into her face, brushing back strands of hair that were stuck to her cheek. By tears. “What’s the matter?”
“I buried my sister today. But more than anything I wanted—needed—this.”
“Sex.”
She began to cry in earnest.
He gathered her close and turned them until she was lying on top of him. “You need this, too.”
And he held her to him, his large, capable hands stroking her while she mourned.
An hour passed before they finally got up and righted their clothing. She collected her handbag and her shoes, then went up on tiptoe and gave him a tender kiss. “Thank you.”
Possessively, he curved his hand around her neck and brushed her jawline with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “I got your shirt wet.”
“Anytime.”
She rested her cheek on his chest again. “Lisa did a terrible thing, but it doesn’t cancel all the wonderful things she did for me. Essentially she gave up her young adulthood for me. I loved her, and I know she loved me.”
“No one could argue that.” He kissed the top of her head, then leaned away from her. “How do you like that cabin you’ve been staying in?”
“How did you know—” Then she laughed. “Never mind.”
“Will you let me take you home—to my home—give you a bourbon and a bath? I have a tub for two.”
“You have a tub for twenty.”
“That’s a yes?”
“With an exclamation point.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “And, if you like it there tonight, you could stay indefinitely.”
She arched her brows. “Is that an invitation?”
“No strings attached. It’s just that soon you’re not going to have a roof over your head.” He glanced toward the dining area. “I hope they start the demolition with that chandelier.”
She laughed again, more lightly than she had in ages. “Actually, I like the idea of having strings attached.”
“Good. Me too. Let’s get started.” With their arms around each other’s waists, they walked to the front door. “Oh, the candles.”
He walked over to the fireplace and ran his hand along the carved wood mantel. “You sure you don’t want to salvage this?”
“Do you? If so, it’s yours.”
“Thanks. I’m doing a remodel where I think it’ll add some character.” He stepped back and assessed the plain brick chimney. “The rest of it has none.”
Arden had been watching him with adoring eyes, when suddenly she was yanked from her mooniness. “Chimney.” Ledge had cupped his hand around one of the candles, about to blow it out. “Wait! Ledge. She said chimney.”
“What?”
“Lisa. Just before she died, remember? She whispered something to me, but I didn’t get it.” She raised her fingertips to her lips. “She said chimney.”
They looked at each other with a significant question mark between them.
He said, “Flip on the light.”
She did. He kneeled on the hearth, opened the damper to a shower of soot, and looked up into the flue. “Got a flashlight?”
“In the kitchen.” Arden rushed into the kitchen and retrieved it from a drawer. She carried it back to Ledge, who shone it up into the flue.
“Is there something up there?”
He didn’t say anything, but repositioned himself, edging farther into the grate, and reached up with his right arm, clenching his teeth as he strained. He gave several hard yanks, then withdrew his arm and scooted out just as a canvas bag dropped into the grate.
Dusting his hands, he came slowly to his feet and said under his breath, “I’ll be double damned.”
Arden whispered, “Is that it?”
“That’s it, and it’s still full.”
The two of them stared at the bag as though expecting it to start breathing.
“She told Rusty she had spent the money. Every last cent,” Arden said, imitating Lisa’s spiteful tone.
“That would’ve been a trip wire.”
“Yes. He shot her instantly.” She continued to gaze down at the bag. “Did insurance cover the Welch’s loss?”
“Yes. At the time, that relieved my conscience a lot,” he said.
“Then what happens to stolen money that’s recovered?”
“I’m sure that young, fire-breathing prosecutor will know.”
“Hmm.” After a moment, she added, “Imagine the paperwork that will involve, and he’s already got so much work ahead of him.”
Ledge looked at her askance. “What are you thinking?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m thinking what a befitting donation this would be to launch my foundation. Something that caused so much grief being used for something good. It should be earmarked for a particularly worthy cause. Say, Alzheimer’s research and treatment.”
He swallowed hard and said huskily, “I like the way you think.”
“Good. We’re agreed.”
He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side. “This explains why Lisa didn’t want any work done on the house.”
“It explains more than that.”
He looked at her inquisitively.
“I didn’t understand the last word she spoke, and, even if I had, I couldn’t have grasped the implication of it. Not until now.”
“What was the word?”
Softly, Arden said, “Penance.”
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