Chapter Sixteen
Tilly awakened, disturbed by a sound she didn’t recognize. Turning, she glanced behind her, but Boone wasn’t in the bed at her side. She searched the dark room, then saw the curtain beside the French door flutter. The balcony door was open.
She slid from the bed, searched the shadows for something to wear, and grabbed the first thing she found. Boone’s white dress shirt. She shrugged it on, breathing in his musk and spicy cologne, rolled up the sleeves to her wrists, and fastened a few buttons for modesty’s sake before padding to the opened door.
Boone stood with his back to her, his hands clutching the porch rail. Moonlight shone on his bare shoulders.
A slight breeze ruffled her shirt, and she pulled it tighter around her as she stepped nearer. “Can’t you sleep?” she asked, leaning her hips against the rail to look up into his face.
His features were drawn and hard, his jaw tense enough that a muscle rippled along the edge. “You should go back to bed.”
He’d looked like this before. When he’d stood in front of the burning cabin. Tilly’s chest fell as she let go of a sigh. “What’s wrong, Boone?” she asked softly, although she was pretty certain about what haunted him, what haunted them both—although Boone wanted closure, to know for a certainty who had killed Celeste, and Tilly was fearful of that truth.
Another balcony door opened farther down, and Serge stepped outside. “Boss, you hearing bells again?”
Boone’s head turned toward the sound of Serge’s voice, but not far enough to meet his gaze. “Yeah, you go back to bed. It’s nothing.”
The way he said it, it’s nothing, his voice so harsh the sound made her shiver, said something was sure bothering him.
Serge knew it too, giving her a worried glance but stepping back inside.
“Tell me about it, Boone,” she whispered, although now she wished she’d stayed in bed. Anything to avoid this.
He didn’t look at her, his eyes focused on the dark treetops across the way. “I hear bells, Tilly. I know they’re not real. But I hear the tinkling of Celie’s gold bracelet.”
Tilly didn’t breathe. She knew the sound as well. Thought about it now and then, when chimes tinkled in the distance.
“The sound comes and goes, like when she walked, her arms swinging at her side. It’s barely there, but…” His gaze dropped to hers, dark eyes accusing. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but she’s f*cking haunting me.”
Tilly closed her eyes and dropped her head. She’d known the moment would come when he’d ask her what she knew. What she hadn’t prepared for, what she’d never considered, was that she wanted to tell him. Her secret was eating her up inside. And he didn’t deserve this.
As far as the law was concerned, Boone might be untouchable, but he’d never let it go, never rest. Celeste’s death was a burden he’d never relinquish, not until he’d found the truth.
Her throat tightened and she drew a ragged breath, and then slowly raised her head, afraid to meet his gaze. But she knew she couldn’t cower away from this. “I’ve been tryin’ to figure this out for years. I have a folder of every newspaper clippin’, of every family photo of her I could find. I remember her, Boone, clear as if it were yesterday. When my mother went to visit, I’d hang out in her room. We’d listen to music, talk about boys. She talked about you all the time.” Tilly’s eyes filled, but she blinked away her tears. “She said she was gonna marry you. That you just didn’t know it yet.”
Boone grunted and nodded his head. “Seemed preordained. She was the prettiest girl in these parts—”
“And you were the senator’s son. Only, she had another boyfriend.” Her gaze fell away. “She snuck around on you, at least once.” He held so still, she wasn’t sure if he’d known. “I saw her leave with Leon Fournier. He didn’t park in front of her house, and I was out walkin’ with Denny, my brother. Denny shook his head and said she was headin’ to hell.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the smarmy spring heat that had made her shirt stick to her skin, and Denny’s hand sliding inside her grasp. “Mama was always sayin’ Celeste was too pretty and too fast. Said it ruined her. That she’d earn herself a ticket straight to he—” She bit her lip, because judging Celeste didn’t seem fair when she wasn’t there to defend herself. “Denny liked Celeste. He sure didn’t like you, but he knew enough to be polite. But he really didn’t like Leon.”
Tilly turned to stare over the balcony beneath her, anything not to have to meet Boone’s hard gaze. “That day, when I saw them drive off together, Denny told me he’d seen them together before. That he’d followed them to where they went and took off their clothes.” She laughed, but the sound was anything but funny. “He didn’t know why they’d want to do that when mosquitoes were out. That’s how I knew there was at least one more person who might want her dead.”
Blood pounded in her ears. She glanced sideways at Boone, whose body stood taller and whose features had grown rigid. It made her nervous to continue, but she’d already said so much. “Made sense to me that the evidence went missin’. Couldn’t have that mattress or the semen samples showin’ the sheriff’s son might somehow be involved.”
“And you never said anything,” he said, his voice dead calm.
“Who would I tell? Leon’s daddy? Leon himself, once he took his daddy’s place?” She shook her head. “It’s Bayou Vert. You know better than anyone someone placed like that can get away with murder.”
Boone’s hands were fisted so tight, his biceps bulged. “Dammit, he might not have been tried, but I’d have known. Everyone would have known.”
“But I didn’t know. Not for sure.” Her glance fell away again. “And then I found something…” Her stomach churned sickeningly, and she paused.
Boone gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “What did you find?” he asked in a scary calm voice.
“I have to show you.” She shrugged, her lips trembling. “I want to explain. You don’t know him…” Standing in his grip, she waited, hoping he wouldn’t press her for more. Not yet.
His hand dropped. “Go get dressed, Tilly.”
Her head shot up, eyes widening. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“This thing you’re going to show me, do you have it in the cottage?”
She shook her head. “I buried it. We’d have to head into town.”
“I’ll wake Serge.”
Tilly shivered. The thought of heading to the secluded spot in the dark, all of his men simmering with judgment, left her breathless. Again, she shook her head. “If we head into town in the dead of night with your security team, folks there will think you’re launchin’ some sort of invasion.”
His jaw clenched, a ripple working along the edge. “I’ve waited fifteen years for something to shake loose,” he said, his tone harsh and biting. His stare turned cold and hard. “I can’t believe you kept this to yourself.”
He considered her secret a betrayal, what she’d feared most. Tears welled again. “I had my reasons.”
His head tilted, eyes narrowing as he stared. “Someone close to you, then. Someone you care about.” His face turned to stone. “Your brother.”
Panic clutched her chest and she shook her head. “It can’t be,” she said, then gasped, the sound more of a sob.
Boone ignored her distress, walked down to Serge’s door, and rapped on the glass.
Serge opened a moment later. “I heard. Already have Bear bringing the car around front.”
Boone stomped back and stepped past her, entering the bedroom.
Tilly eyed Serge, who shook his head, warning her to keep silent. She followed Boone inside, doing her best to stop the tears welling in her eyes from escaping.
He switched on the light and began picking up her clothes and throwing them onto the bed. “Get dressed,” he ground out. “We go now.”
Her steps leaden, she went to the bed and stripped off his shirt to dress in her rumpled clothing. Her hands shook as she pulled her skirt close. “I don’t have any underwear.”
“Check the wardrobe in the closet.”
She found a small pile of lingerie, all her size, and pulled on a pair beneath her short skirt. Last night, she’d been nervous about exposing her body. Now she’d revealed something even more shameful. She’d been dead wrong. Cruel, perhaps. And he and everyone around him would know she’d let him down.
By his tone and his hard glares, she knew what she’d revealed had likely killed whatever had been growing between them. Her chest felt thick and sore. Nausea roiled in her belly. And her brother, Denny, was about to be pulled into the middle of this mess. She’d promised to protect him. And she’d failed. Her words had condemned her own brother.
“Tilly.”
Before she glanced his way, she closed the drawer and straightened her shoulders. She lifted her chin and forced her expression into something she hoped didn’t show her fear. Her eyes were dry, and they’d stay that way.
They left the room, Serge falling in behind them. Linc’s door opened and another behind her, but she didn’t glance back to see who’d joined them. His friends were gathering. They’d watch his back.
No mercy would be shown her. No matter how pleasant and easy they’d made last night’s experience. Their blood bond with Boone kept them loyal.
Lights came on as they moved through the house. Although who was flipping switches, she couldn’t tell. Not anyone with them, because their footsteps never paused. The air was eerily quiet, other than the heavy tread of their boots and her own jagged breaths.
Once in the garage, Boone turned to her. “We’ll need a shovel?”
She nodded, her hands clasped into fists at her sides.
He lifted his chin to Jonesy, who slipped out a door, then returned moments later holding a short military entrenching tool. Where he’d had it stashed and why, she wasn’t even sure, but the question floated through her mind. Maybe because she was in shock, her mind and body separating.
The Bentley’s door opened, and Serge guided her into the back, taking a seat beside her. Boone sat in front beside Bear.
As far away from her as he could get.
She closed her eyes.
“Where are we going, Ms. Floret?” Bear asked, his tone no different than any other day. Deadly. Emotionless.
“Belle Tierre Road, just off of Main,” she said, her voice a little hoarse because her throat was tight with tension.
The car reversed, another’s engine started. Two cars left the property, heading to Bayou Vert.
Just four days. That’s all the time that had elapsed since the moment she’d met Boone, all the time it had taken for everything to unravel. In the cold silence, she had time to think.
From the start, he’d played her. Recognized her weaknesses—her need for financial security to bring her brother home, her sexual inexperience. He’d used his considerable talent and expertise to seduce her.
Likely he’d done it for the very reasons he’d given her at the start. He needed her to smooth his entrance into this end of the parish. Romancing her assured her enthusiastic cooperation. The fact she’d held a vital key to his investigation was a bonus—one he’d ruthlessly exploit. Not like they’d actually been falling in love.
Only maybe she had been. Tilly stared out at the darkness and wondered where she’d be when the dust settled. Out of a job? Back to square one, but without a fallback, because Mae would never hire her back.
Could she have screwed things up any worse? Was she making him a villain in her mind so that she could bear the pain of the break? Get angry enough not to cry? She dared a glance at Boone. His profile limned in dashboard light looked unfamiliar. Harsh lines, thin lips. This was the man who negotiated with terrorists and drug cartels. She’d been playing with his doppelg?nger.
Until they entered town, the silence remained unbroken. She scooted forward on her seat to direct Bear, resigned to helping rather than hindering at this point. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could hide herself away from everyone’s condemnation.
“This is the turn,” she said as Belle Tierre came into view.
Bear turned the car onto the narrow street, passing small square clapboard houses.
“It’s on the right,” she said, then indicated with her finger. “But park by the trees up ahead.”
The car pulled quietly to the side of the narrow, pitted track. No shoulder on this road. Trees and thick brush crowded the edge of the pavement.
They exited the car, the three men holding flashlights. Boone handed one to her, not speaking. They waited until she got the hint that she should lead the way.
She followed the road to a culvert, then stepped off to the side, trying not to think about the night creatures around them, and watching the ground for snakes and gators. About fifteen feet off the road, she halted at the base of a tall oak, moss draping its branches. She shone the light upward, noted the carvings she and Denny had made when they were younger. Their initials, and their dog’s.
Then she walked around the base to the far side and knelt to push away leaves and fallen dried moss to get to the snug corner in the exposed roots. “Dig here,” she said, then pushed herself up and stepped away.
Jonesy dug into the soft dirt with his short shovel. He’d only turned two shovelfuls of ground when a metal clunk sounded. Tossing aside the tool, he went down on his knees and cleared the rest with his hands.
When he pulled the small tin from the hole, Tilly felt a little dizzy, swaying on her feet.
Lights shone on the tin. Jonesy pushed at the lid, opening it.
Denny’s little bits glittered inside.
“Jesus. F*ck.”
The voice was Boone’s. He shouldered closer and knelt beside Jonesy, his hand shaking as he reached into the box and plucked the bracelet by its clasp to hold it up in the light. The little bells tinkled, not a clear, musical sound as in the past because they were encrusted with dirt and no longer shiny.
“There’s dried blood on it,” Boone said, staring across at her, his gaze hard and accusing.
Tilly’s eyes filled, and she whimpered, swaying. Her knees crumpled, and she went down. Crouched in front of him, she had no defense.
“What is this box, Tilly?” Boone asked, his voice hoarse.
“You know,” she rasped. “Denny’s treasures. Bits he found and kept. His p-pirate’s hoard.”
“There’s blood on it. She was wearing it when she was murdered.”
She shook her head, then raised it, her eyes pleading. “Maybe he found it somewhere else.”
Boone gave a curt shake of his own. “Well, you don’t know that, do you? Didn’t you ask him about it?”
“I couldn’t.” She knelt back and pushed a hand through her hair. “He tends to go on and on about things when they’re on his mind. I couldn’t ask and have him say anything to anyone else. He’s my brother,” she whispered over a clogged throat.
Boone dropped the chain into the pocket of his shirt, then handed her the tin box.
Pressing it against her chest, she dropped her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.
* * *
Boone stayed silent the whole way back to the estate. Excitement held his body rigid. The possibility that not all the blood would be Celeste’s made his stomach knot. The moment they got back, he’d have Bear take it to a lab for testing. It didn’t matter that even if they did find someone else’s DNA on the bracelet after all this time, they still couldn’t bring the killer to justice. But he’d know. And he’d make sure everyone f*cking knew.
The blight on his reputation, on his soul, would be erased.
A soft sob coming from behind him interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced into the rearview mirror at Tilly.
He could understand why she’d never mentioned her brother’s involvement. She loved him, but why not Leon? Had she been afraid that once she’d dredged up the past, new light would shine on all those surrounding Celeste?
Her face was white, her eyes large. She was afraid, and up until this moment, he’d been glad. His thirst for vengeance demanded someone pay, but looking at her tortured expression made his chest hurt.
They pulled in front of the Big House’s porch steps. He and his men exited the car, but Tilly still sat frozen in the back. The fury that had fueled his actions bled away, replaced by a sharp ache in the center of his chest. Blowing out a breath, he opened her door and extended his hand.
She glanced at it but scooted across the seat without taking it. When she stood on the cobblestones, she turned and walked toward the path leading around the house. Toward the cottage. Motion-detecting lights he’d had installed the day before lit her way.
He strode after her. “No, you don’t,” he said, catching her arm and drawing her around.
She twisted her arm, trying to break his hold. “I’m tired.”
“I don’t want you anywhere near a phone,” he said, refusing to let her go.
Eyes narrowed to slits, her head tilted high. “Am I your prisoner now?”
He tightened his grip. “Tilly, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“What way is it, Boone?” she said, her voice shredding with tears. “You have what you wanted from me. If it doesn’t give you all your answers, you’ll move on to someone else who might.” Mouth pressed into a tight line, she shrugged her arm again. “Let me go.”
For a moment, Boone was confused by her anger. He knew he’d treated her harshly, but did she really think he’d only been using her to flush out the killer? Boone sighed. “I can’t let you go.”
She stopped struggling but kept her head down. A slight tremble shook her frame. “Look, I’m tired. Dirty. I need to be alone.”
Boone took a deep breath, wanting more than anything to bring her close for a hug. He sensed she wouldn’t accept it, that she was holding on to her composure by a thread. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you’re staying with me.”
Her head came up, a smile twisting her mouth. “Maybe you should just go and call Leon. Let him hold me in a cell while you two figure out who killed y’all’s old girlfriend.”
Boone’s lips pressed together. He was at a loss for what to say. Wasn’t even sure what the next steps should be. His mind was still reeling. “Tilly…” He tugged her closer.
Her steps were wooden, her face turning, her gaze not meeting his. Her expression was shattered. Vacant.
And he didn’t like how that made him feel. Didn’t like how he’d treated her since she’d dropped her little bomb. But from the moment she’d confessed her secret, his mind and body had been seized, his laser focus locked on his target. Her.
He wasn’t proud of how he’d reacted, and maybe she’d never forgive him for what he was about to do with the knowledge she’d given him. But he never fought his instincts.
The impulse was there, despite what his head was telling him, what his thirst for payback demanded. He pulled her closer, not stopping until her chest met his.
Only when their bodies touched did he know what he needed. Tilly under him. As plain and simple as that: there’d be no easing the tension riding his body until he was deep inside her.
“Boone, don’t,” she said, tears thickening her voice.
“Look at me.”
Keeping her face averted, she shook her head.
Boone crooked his finger and tipped her chin toward him until the lights shining from the porch gleamed on the tears still trailing down her cheeks.
The weight in his chest grew heavier. Boone stood for a moment, a chill of realization washing over his skin. There was something he wanted more than revenge. Something he didn’t think he could live without. He wasn’t going to put a name to the emotion welling up inside him. So again, he followed his gut. “I need you, Tilly. Don’t give up on me just yet.”