“Leah.” Catherine’s dulcet tone was as cultured as her appearance. With her sleek,
silver bob that brushed the shoulders of a white cashmere sweater, the woman embodied
elegance, sophistication, and old money. “It is wonderful to see you again after all
this time.”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Leah said. “I should not have let so much
time pass before coming to see you.”
Catherine squeezed her hands and released them. “I understand.”
Her dark gaze—so reminiscent of Richard’s it clenched Leah’s heart in a pinching grip—flicked
over her shoulder. The smile chilled a fraction; Catherine’s mouth stiffened and lost
a bit of its previous warmth. Unease skated down Leah’s spine.
“Catherine, I’d like you to meet Gabriel Devlin,” Leah said, and shifting to the side,
held a hand out toward her silent friend. “Gabriel, this is Catherine Pierce, Richard’s
mother.”
Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction.
“Yes, I know of Mr. Devlin,” Richard’s mother murmured. Her cold gaze narrowed on
Gabriel for another long moment before returning to Leah. “Please have a seat.” A
pause. “Both of you.”
“Thank you.” Leah lowered to a beautifully upholstered settee while Gabriel sank down
onto a chair some distance away, almost as if he preferred to remain invisible. An
observer. But of what?
Catherine focused on Leah. “I saw your father several weeks ago at Jordan Hall for
the Voices of Hope auction and gala. He looks well.”
Leah smiled. “I remember Dad mentioning attending, but he didn’t say he saw you. How
are Rachel and Riley?” Rachel Sheridan, formerly Pierce, was Catherine’s daughter
and Richard’s twin sister, and Riley, Rachel’s daughter, was Catherine’s only grandchild.
“They are fine,” Catherine replied, straightening the flawless cuff of her sweater.
“Though I am delighted you’ve come by, dear, what brings you to my home?”
Leah reached out, covered Catherine’s hand. “I know this is going to come as a shock,
but I need to talk with you about Richard’s disappearance.”
Her expression blanked as if one of the black shutters on her windows had slammed
shut. Only her bright charcoal eyes betrayed the emotion raging behind her striking
mask.
“Richard,” Catherine whispered, her son’s name a precious epithet on her lips.
“Yes.” Leah nodded. “I’m sorry to bring up this hurtful topic—”
But Catherine cut Leah’s apology off with a slash of her free hand. “No. Please. What
about my son?”
“Friday I received an anonymous letter in the mail, and it included his missing-person
flyer from twenty years ago. The sender asked me to investigate Richard’s disappearance.”
“Oh!” Catherine rose from the settee, and slid her feet soundlessly over the deep
carpet toward the wide bay windows behind the feminine antique desk. She stared out
at the wide expanse of green lawn and the white picket fence Leah and Gabriel had
passed as they drove up the long drive. Slender hands were clasped behind Catherine’s
back, and as the sunlight streamed through the windows, she appeared almost ethereal,
frail.
“Catherine,” Leah said gently.
“I have been diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer.” The softly spoken announcement
seemed to echo in the room like a shout in a vast cave.
Leah flinched, and behind her Gabriel shifted slightly in his chair, as if he, too,
had been stunned by the bald admission. Yet Catherine’s voice didn’t waver as she
delivered the disturbing news. As if she’d come to accept her fate, and therefore
expected others to accept it as well with little fuss. “The doctors have given me
six months to live.”
“Oh, God, Catherine.” Leah whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She scrutinized Catherine through
renewed eyes as the other woman turned when the
snick
on the door echoed in the silent study like the muffled report of a bullet.
“Yes, Delia?”
“Would you like me to bring tea for your guests, Mrs. Pierce?” The housekeeper stood
inside the doorway.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
As Delia nodded and backed out of the room once more, Catherine retraced her steps
toward the small, delicate chair where Leah continued to perch, still recovering from
her shocking news. Leah noted the pale, jaundiced tint of the woman’s skin beneath
her carefully applied makeup, and the hollows under her cheekbones that could have
been attributed to patrician bone structure rather than a recent weight loss.
Catherine sank down on the settee, the sharp crease of her champagne slacks grazing
Leah’s knee.
“Thank you for your concern. All these years I’ve grieved for my Richard. And now,
facing my own mortality, it seems lately like my thoughts have been filled with him.”
For the first time, her stalwart façade cracked and Leah glimpsed the tormented grief
beneath. Catherine surveyed the study. “I’ve lived in this house for over fifty years.
I’ve raised two children in it and mourned my son here as well. When the time comes,
I’ll die in this home. But not before I have justice and closure for my Richard.”
“Catherine, I want to help find out the truth. Believe me.”
Leah glanced away, offered Catherine a private moment to gather her composure. She
empathized with Catherine; she understood the desire for resolution, for justice.
An aneurysm had sentenced Leah to a life as an emotional orphan. Richard had vanished
under murky circumstances, and if the sender of the letter was to be believed, her
uncle’s murderer remained at large. Oh, yeah, Leah knew a little about unfairness
and helplessness.
“The police,” Catherine continued, her tone hardening and reclaiming Leah’s attention,
“failed to do their jobs when Richard originally disappeared. They tried to imply
he’d deserted me and his family.” Her outrage provided color to her pale complexion
as her thin mouth tightened in anger. “Twenty years ago, I lost all faith in law enforcement,
and I’ve never regained my trust. I even hired a private investigator years ago, and
still nothing came of it. But you—” Her dark eyes lit with an inner fire as she leaned
forward, and her blazing stare sent an inexplicable shiver tripping over Leah’s skin.
“Leah, you have a vested interest in discovering what happened to my son. Richard
adored you.”
“I loved him, too,” Leah confessed softly.
The study door opened on a soft
swish
, and Delia came in wheeling a white serving cart laden with a complete china tea
set. Conversation ceased as the housekeeper drew the cart to a halt several feet away
from Catherine and Leah. In practiced, efficient motions, she poured the dark brew
into two cups after Gabriel declined the offer with a short shake of his head. The
flavorful scent of Earl Grey wafted from the pot, the comforting aroma curling around
Leah like a warm, comfy afghan.
Familiar with her employer’s tastes, Delia automatically added one sugar cube and
a splash of cream. At Leah’s instructions, the housekeeper liberally sweetened and
lightened her tea. Once she and Catherine sipped from their beverages with approval,
Delia exited the study again, leaving the cart behind.
“Can you tell me what you remember about those last few days or weeks before his disappearance?”
Leah prompted.
“I’ll never forget,” Catherine said, her eyes losing their intensity as her gaze softened
and seemed to turn inward toward images Leah couldn’t see. “I remember the last time
I saw him. Friday night—the night the police believed he went missing.” Her voice
took on a trancelike quality as if she’d returned to the evening so many years ago.
“He had a business dinner and wore the dark blue jacket I’d given him for his birthday
two months earlier. He’d paired it with a light blue shirt, and he’d laughed when
I told him he resembled a peacock. My special boy.” Her thin lips trembled. “Then
he kissed me on the cheek, told me he loved me, and left. I never saw my son again.”
Catherine’s description of Richard’s clothes matched the missing-person flyer down
to the detail, and Leah assumed his mother had been the source of the information.
“Did he seem preoccupied at all during that time? In his business or personal life?
Did he have any conflicts with anyone?”
But Catherine was already shaking her head. “Richard was admired and adored by all
his peers. His smile, charm, and wit had made him popular and well liked. And sought
after.” Her gaze flattened, became shards of flint. And for the first time since they’d
entered the study, she looked at Gabriel. Coral-painted lips straightened into a grim
line. “Richard could’ve had his pick of eligible women. But one of my son’s flaws
had been his affinity for those less fortunate than he, while those women saw him
as a meal ticket out of their poor, drab lives.”
Cold slithered into Leah’s veins. Gabriel’s aloof expression didn’t alter, but Leah
could sense the tension radiating from his rigid body. The white-knuckled grip on
the arms of his chair betrayed the flux of emotion seething underneath his remote
façade. Carefully, she set her empty cup and saucer on a small table flanking the
settee.
Evelyn. The less fortunate woman who saw Richard as a meal ticket out her poor, drab
life had been Chay’s mother, Evelyn.
“I warned Richard about dating that Gray woman,” Catherine spat, confirming Leah’s
assumption. “Admittedly, she was a beauty, but she was from Dorchester, for God’s
sake. I’d had hopes for the relationship he’d been in after his divorce—at least Donna
was from a good family even if she was a single mother. But he broke it off with Donna
after meeting Evelyn Gray. A single parent
and
a bank teller. Not the kind of woman Richard could bring to dinner parties or social
events. It was the same with Renee.”
“Renee?” Leah asked.
Catherine’s fingers curled into claws, wrinkling the material of her pant leg.
“Richard’s first wife,” she bit out.
A faint image of a petite blonde with brown eyes and an unsmiling mouth wavered in
Leah’s head. She’d forgotten Richard had once been married.
“She was a secretary at our office when they met,” Catherine continued. The acid tone
surpassed disdain and edged into disgust. As a child of an affluent family, Leah was
well acquainted with the snobbery and elitist attitudes that prevailed among Boston’s
wealthy social circles. With her ethnic features, she’d been the recipient of loud
pauses and condescending glances until the offenders realized the girl with the exotic
eyes, sharp cheekbones, and dusty complexion was also the daughter of one of Massachusetts’s
most influential and respected attorneys. In their fickle society, the green of money
often trumped all other colors.
But Catherine’s scorn of Evelyn and Richard’s ex-wife, Renee, exceeded petty prejudice.
Her loathing seemed…personal.
Leah risked another glance in Gabriel’s direction, and he could have been sculpted
from a block of ice with no sign of thawing.
“Evelyn Gray and her son were the only variables in Richard’s life when he went missing.
And Richard confided in me regarding the troubles he’d been experiencing with Chayot,
Evelyn’s son. The boy had been cold, distant, and threatened Richard’s relationship
with his mother. He should have been thankful for my son’s presence in his life, but
instead he was belligerent, disrespectful.”
“You don’t know anything about Chay, Mrs. Pierce,” Gabriel said coldly. “You refused
to meet him or his mother, remember? So I’d appreciate it if you refrained from speaking
ill about people you never bothered getting to know.”
Catherine whipped her head in his direction, glaring. Blue ice clashed with black
fire, and Leah froze, stunned. She wouldn’t have been surprised if vapor rose between
the two of them in a hazy column.
“Catherine,” she began, not completely sure what she should—or could—say. “
What the hell”
just didn’t seem appropriate, yet the words hovered on the tip of her tongue.
“I know more than you believe I do, Mr. Devlin. And I’d thank you to keep a civil
tongue in your head. Especially since the only reason I’ve allowed you inside my home
is because you accompanied Leah.”
Gabriel’s lip curled in a snarl, his eyes somewhere in the subzero range.
“Catherine,” Leah interceded before Gabriel could respond—and ruin whatever chances
she had of discovering information from the woman, “I know Gabriel and Chay. Both
are good men. And Gabriel has agreed to help me with the investigation.”
“Has he?” Catherine’s mouth twisted into a brittle smile. “I have to wonder what is
in it for him. Somehow, I can’t believe his intentions are altruistically motivated.”
“Because Leah is my friend, and she asked for my assistance,” Gabriel snapped. “Nothing
more, nothing less.”
Catherine and Gabriel stared at one another, the silence charged and crackling. The
animosity between her best friend and Richard’s mother was like a living, breathing
entity in the room. Dislike, Leah could understand; Catherine had maligned Chay’s
name in front of Gabriel, so him leaping to his friend’s defense didn’t shock her.
But this…this loathing between two people who’d never met before seemed extreme.
With a disdainful sniff, Catherine turned from Gabriel and set her teacup and saucer
on the second shelf of the serving cart with a trembling clatter.
“Leah, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on those last days. And maybe Richard finally
decided to heed my advice and break off his involvement with Evelyn and her son. Maybe
his decision infuriated Evelyn, dashing her dreams of rising above her station. Or
maybe Evelyn’s son was angered because his mother had been hurt. No one,” Catherine
enunciated through firmly pressed lips, “had reason to harm Richard.
No one
. Except someone in the Gray household.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gabriel spat. “Evelyn loved Richard, and Chay was just a boy
at the time.”
“And before I leave this earth,” Catherine continued, ignoring Gabriel’s interruption,
“I want my son’s murder avenged.”