The Whispering Room (21 page)

E
vangeline could see the swirl of blue lights outside her living room as she leaned a shoulder against the wall, feeling oddly detached from the chaos inside her house.

Two uniforms stood just inside the front door, one scribbling on a clipboard while the other was on his cell phone. Another two were outside canvassing the yard while crime scene techs were busy dusting for prints in the nursery and at the back door where Rebecca Lemay had made her escape.

NOPD always turned out in full force for one of their own.

Even an outsider like me.

Although maybe she wasn't as much of an outsider as she'd always thought. Nash had said there were those within the department who had tried to protect her from the details of Johnny's
death. And right now, Evangeline would be hard-pressed to make the argument that these guys were treating her with anything but camaraderie, sympathy and the utmost respect.

Mitchell arrived a few minutes after the first squad car, and J.D. had been screaming at the top of his lungs by then. All the commotion and Evangeline's adrenaline had terrified him, and it had taken her a long time to calm him.

Finally, after a bottle, he'd gone back to sleep and she'd put him down on her bed and barricaded him with pillows. She'd left the door ajar and planted herself just outside so that she would be able to hear him if he so much as whimpered.

As soon as the tech came out of the nursery, she motioned him over.

“Did you find anything?” she asked anxiously.

“I lifted some prints off the crib. Once we eliminate yours and the sitter's, we can run them through the computer. We can also check for a match with the prints we found at the Courtland crime scene. Who knows? We might get lucky.” He didn't sound too hopeful, though.

Mitchell, who was standing beside Evangeline, shook his head in disbelief. “Just when you think a case can't get any more peculiar, now we've got a pair of twisted sisters to deal with.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

After the tech left, Evangeline glanced up at
Mitchell. “Look, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier about the interview with Lena Saunders. Ruth Lemay. Whoever the hell she is.” She shook her head in confusion. “It's your case and you deserved to know. But Lapierre specifically told me not to say anything to anyone until she had a chance to evaluate Saunders's story. You know how she is.”

“Hey, don't worry about it. It wasn't your call to make. I can't help wondering why you were the one singled out, though.”

“Lena Saunders knew Johnny. At least, that's what she claims. When she saw my name in the paper attached to the Courtland case, she decided I was the one she wanted to talk to.”

“And the nut-job that showed up here tonight?”

“Evidently, she wanted to set the record straight. She basically disputed everything her sister told me. She says that Ruth is the one who helped their mother.”

“So which sister is telling the truth?”

“What is truth?” Evangeline murmured.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I was just remembering something Lena told me.”

“If her story checks out and we find Rebecca Lemay's prints at the crime scene, I guess we can pretty much eliminate Sonny Betts's involvement in all this.”

“It's starting to look that way,” Evangeline agreed. The memory of everything she'd learned the day
before suddenly came rushing back and she felt exactly the way Rebecca Lemay had described her premonition—like trying to breathe underwater. Her chest tightened and for a moment, panic bubbled in her throat. Johnny had been on Sonny Betts's payroll. She'd seen the evidence with her own two eyes, and yet Evangeline knew it would take a long, long time before she'd ever be able to fully accept his betrayal.

“I found out some other things about Sonny Betts,” she told Mitchell.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned and studied her face.

She glanced around. The living room was clearing out, but she still didn't want to take the chance of someone overhearing her. “I want to talk to you about it, but not here.”

“Sure, kiddo. Just name the time and place.” His gaze was still on her and he frowned. “You sure you're okay?”

“I will be. I have to be, don't I?”

“Oh, I don't know. Even a tough girl like you deserves a day off now and then.”

Evangeline knew he was trying to tease her out of the dark space she'd crawled into that night and she appreciated the effort. She did. But she was still too shaken from finding out about Johnny, and then seeing J.D. in Rebecca Lemay's arms. She didn't want to think about what could have happened, how she might have failed her son yet again.

Mitchell glanced over her shoulder at the front door, and his playful grin vanished. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Evangeline turned and saw Declan Nash on her front porch.

She couldn't believe it. What
was
he doing there?

He opened his ID for the officers at the door, then stepped inside her house and glanced around. The way his gaze swept over her belongings so intently stirred a curious mix of anger and vulnerability in Evangeline.

He was still dressed in a suit even at this hour, and she thought,
Jeez. Doesn't the man ever sleep?

And then he spotted her and she felt that same blend of anger and vulnerability as their gazes briefly locked.

He said something to one of the cops, then walked over to where she stood with Mitchell. She made the introductions, the two men shook hands briefly, and with a curious scowl, Mitchell drifted away.

“Your partner isn't exactly the friendly sort, is he?”

“Most of the time he is. You just took him by surprise showing up here like this. I have to admit…” She finally let her eyes meet his again. “I'm a little taken aback myself.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Under the circumstances, I didn't think it appropriate to call first. Besides, I wasn't sure you'd take my call anyway.”

“Probably not,” she freely admitted. “I guess that's a moot point now, though, because here you are. So why don't we dispense with all the crap and you just tell me how you heard about what happened here tonight?”

“I can't do that.”

She folded her arms in annoyance. “Let me guess, then. You either have someone watching my house or your contact at NOPD put a little bug in your ear. Either way, you're not wanted or needed here.”

“Thanks.”

“No offense, but this isn't any of your concern. It's a local matter, and as you can see—” she motioned toward the cops at the door “—NOPD has the situation under control.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you holding up? How's your son?”

“We're both fine. Now if you don't mind—”

“Did you know the woman who broke into your house?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall. “God, you're relentless, aren't you?”

“About some things, yeah.”

Their gazes met again, and Evangeline thought, what the hell? He'd find out sooner or later anyway. Evidently, he had a pipeline straight into the police department. “Her name is Rebecca Lemay. She may have been the same woman who was following Paul
Courtland before he was murdered. Looks like you were right about that one.”

“What's her connection to Courtland?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

He gave her a bemused smile. “You guys give new meaning to the word
territorial.
”

“Oh, really? Wait until I run you off the road and cuff you to keep you away from Sonny Betts. Then we'll talk about territorial.”

Mitchell came back over to have a quick word with Evangeline. “We're wrapping things up,” he said. “But I don't think you and J.D. should stay here until you get these locks changed. Why don't you two bunk over at my place tonight. Lorraine won't mind.”

“Thanks, but we'll be fine here.”

“You sure? Better safe than sorry,” he warned.

“We'll be fine,” Evangeline insisted. “She won't come back tonight.” But she wished she was as certain as she sounded.

She walked Mitchell out to the porch where they conversed for a few minutes with some of the other cops. When she came back into the house, Nash was standing at the bedroom door, gazing in at her son.

 

Nash watched as she closed the distance between them. She looked dead on her feet, and he had the strongest urge to pull her into his arms and hold her
close. Where that idea came from, he had no idea, but suddenly he remembered the scent of lavender that had drifted up from her hair that day in the park.

She was tired, but he could still see a spark of defiance in her eyes, as if she'd somehow read his mind. “What are you doing?”

“I thought I heard him cry,” he said.

She brushed him to the door. Pausing for a moment on the threshold, she quickly crossed the room and stood by the edge of the bed for a long time before she finally came back out.

“He must have been dreaming.” She pulled the door behind her. “It's been a rough night.”

“For both of you.”

“I don't care about myself. I'm just glad…” He saw her shiver. “It'll be daylight soon. I really don't think we'll have any more trouble tonight.”

“I don't think so, either. But I'd really like to hear what this woman said to you.”

“Why? I already told you, it's nothing to do with you.”

“Maybe I want it to be.”

She turned at that. “Why? What are you talking about?”

“Maybe I want to be involved because…I like you.”

He punctuated the confession with a little smile, but her face suddenly looked sad and distressed in the glare of all the lights she'd turned on earlier.

Nash knew he shouldn't have said anything. You don't reveal a dead husband's devious past to a still-grieving widow, then turn around and hit on her. Any moron knew that.

But out on the porch the evening before, something had passed between them. A moment, nothing more, but Nash couldn't get it out of his head. All night long, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. And when he got the call earlier, he hadn't been able to get here quick enough, even though there was no good reason for his presence. No reason at all except he'd wanted to see her. He'd wanted to see for himself that she and her son were okay.

It was strange, this fascination he had for Evangeline Theroux. She was very different from the other women who'd passed through his life. She was tough as nails on the outside, but every once in a while, she'd slip up and the chinks in her armor would show. It was those tiny cracks in her poise that made Nash stop worrying about things like propriety and restraint.

“Do you know anything about the concept of an evil gene?” she asked suddenly.

He was caught off guard by her abrupt question and it took him a moment to catch up. “I know there's research being done, but no real evidence has been found that a violent gene exists. Why? What does that—as you say—have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“Thirty years ago, a woman named Mary Alice Lemay killed her three young sons because she thought they had inherited the propensity for evil from their father. Their grandfather and uncle had both been convicted on multiple counts of rape and murder, and Mary Alice believed that her husband had followed in their footsteps. She claimed she killed her little boys in order to save their eternal souls from damnation. In other words, she killed them before they had a chance to sin.”

“What's this woman to do with you?”

“She's nothing to me. But Paul Courtland's mother is Mary Alice Lemay's sister-in-law. I think the blond woman who was following Paul is his cousin. It's possible that one of Mary Alice's daughters is systematically exterminating all the remaining male members of the Lemay family.”

“In order to eradicate this evil gene?”

“That's the theory.”

“Your theory?”

“No. A true-crime writer named Lena Saunders. I talked to her yesterday morning. She claimed she had information regarding Paul Courtland's killer, so Captain Lapierre sent me over there to take her statement.”

Nash started to point out that she'd been taken off the case, but given the circumstances, he decided to withhold any comment.

“I found out tonight that Lena's real name is Ruth
Lemay. According to Ruth, her younger sister, Rebecca, helped their mother murder at least one of their brothers. And now she's going after the male family members that are left. But Rebecca tells a different story. She says it was Ruth who assisted their mother in the killings.”