When it was over they remained locked in each other’s arms for several long moments, breathing hard, recovering.
Then, very deliberately, Zack lowered her to her feet. He adjusted the robe around her very tenderly, gave her an understanding smile and patted her on top of her head.
“I agree,” he said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need time to get used to the idea of having me around.”
Outrage replaced the warm afterglow. How dare he pat her on the head?
“You’re right.” She narrowed her eyes. “I do need time to think. Lots of time.”
“Fine. But I’m warning you, the bond between us is only going to get stronger. You won’t be able to ignore it.”
She raised her brows. “How do you know that?”
“I’m psychic.”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose and walked out of the bathroom.
Half an hour later, feeling only slightly more composed, she opened a can of cat food. Batman and Robin reacted to the sound of the can opener the way ancient sailors responded to the call of the sirens. They trotted enthusiastically across the kitchen to sit at her feet, gazing up at her and the open can of food with worshipful expressions.
She looked down at their little masked faces. Out of nowhere Vella’s words flashed through her head.
“Everyone wears a mask,” she said softly.
Zack was at the counter, making coffee. He gave her an inquiring look.
“What?” he asked.
“I think I know what Aunt Vella meant when she said to look behind Wilder Jones’s mask.”
Fifty-six
Zack’s phone rang just as he brought the car to a halt in the drive in front of the Shelbyville house. He shut down the engine and took the call.
Raine waited, watching the gloom-drenched house through the rain-splattered windshield. Eventually Zack hit the end button.
“That was Mitchell,” he said.
“Yes, I gathered that much.” Raine turned toward him. “Bad news?”
“For Cassidy Cutler and Niki Plumer, yes. Both of them are showing signs of severe mental disorientation and confusion. A psychiatrist has been called in to evaluate the situation. I didn’t tell Mitchell, but given J&J’s recent experience with Nightshade operatives, both women are probably going to get steadily worse.”
Raine shuddered. “And there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“No,” Zack said. “Not a damn thing. But Mitchell told me something very interesting. Before she started cracking up, Niki Plumer did a lot of talking. She was enraged because she thought Cassidy Cutler was setting her up to take the fall.”
“For trying to kidnap me?”
“No,” Zack said. “For staging those spectacular murders that she wrote about in her books.”
“Good grief. Cassidy killed those people herself?”
“And then set up the suspects for the police to find, according to Niki.”
Horror shot through Raine. “Those people who were arrested for those ghastly murders—they’re all innocent?”
“According to Niki they are.” Zack smiled slightly. “Luckily, thanks to the molasses-like speed of the criminal justice system, none of them has made it as far as the death chamber. You’d better believe Mitchell is excited.”
“I’ll bet he is. If Niki told him the truth, he’s just been handed the career-making case of the decade. There’s a book and probably a movie deal, as well, in this thing.”
“He said Plumer gave him more than enough to open an investigation. With luck and maybe a little discreet help from J&J, in a few months Mitchell will be the hero who solved several front-page crimes and got some innocent people out of jail.”
“Amazing.” She had been dreading the return to Shelbyville for the entire drive from Oriana but now she was suddenly feeling a lot more cheerful. “I sure hope Niki wasn’t lying.”
“I think there’s a good chance she was telling the truth.” Zack unfastened his seat belt and reached into the backseat for his jacket. He pulled it on over his shoulder holster. “She didn’t have any motive to implicate herself in those murders.”
“Good point.” She unclipped her own seat belt, grabbed her long black raincoat and opened the door. “On that note, let’s go see if I’m right about Wilder Jones’s mask.”
They walked quickly through the misty rain toward the entrance to the house. It was colder than it had been the last time she was there, Raine thought. The looming trees whispered in anticipation of snow.
A strip of shredded crime-scene tape fluttered from one of the posts that supported the roof over the front door. Raine paused on the step and dug out her keys.
“You’re sure it’s okay to go inside?” she asked.
“When I called Langdon this morning he said the forensics people had finished. He didn’t have any problem with us going back into the house.”
She opened the door. Cold shadows illuminated the small entry hall.
Zack looked around curiously. “Where did you pick up the bad vibes last time?”
“The kitchen and the basement. The killer used the back door.”
They went past the fireplace that Vella had never used and up the stairs to the second floor. Because of her injured ankle, Raine was forced to use the banister to steady herself. She dimmed her senses as much as possible. Nevertheless, she would have preferred not to touch the wood with her bare hand. Although Vella had not left any intense hot spots, the heavily used surfaces in the house, such as railings and doorknobs, resonated faintly with the disturbing echoes generated by years of her depression, anxiety and despair.
Zack put his hand on the banister and immediately withdrew it. “I can see why you don’t like this house very much.”
“I wish I could sell it quickly but I’m afraid that’s going to be next to impossible now. Unfortunately, the taxes don’t stop just because the owner is deceased.”
“Tell your real estate agent to look for a client who is interested only in the property, one who won’t mind tearing down the house and building a new one.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“You won’t get nearly as much for the place, probably a fraction of its worth, but at least you’ll be out from under the taxes.”
“That’s all I care about now.”
She hobbled to the top of the stairs and limped down the hall to the bedroom that Vella had used. The door stood ajar. She pushed it open and went inside.