“Have you noticed how well Michael swims?” Cara called after her. “It’s more likely that he’ll rescue you.”
“Maybe he already has…” She was treading water beside Michael and reached out and dunked the boy’s head under water. “Gotcha!”
Michael came up laughing, and the battle was on.
Cara was smiling herself as she watched them. It was true that these days of being with Michael and Eve had been a healing experience for Darcy. She was still in pain, but it had temporarily been put on hold, and Cara was grateful for this blessed period of peace and healing.
Her phone rang. Jock.
She unconsciously tensed. So much for peace and healing. The call that Joe had told her about this morning had not had either of those elements. Dark. So dark.
She accessed the call. “I don’t think that Joe’s found out anything yet, Jock. He’s still working—”
“If I’d wanted to check on those results, I would have called Joe,” Jock interrupted. “I needed to talk to you, Cara.”
“I told Kaskov that I wasn’t coming earlier than—”
“Not that either. I’ll get to that when I get back. I just thought you should be the one to handle this.” He paused. “I found out why Darcy’s mother was told to deliver Sylvie to the town of Paillon. It was a matter of convenience.”
“Convenience?”
“One of the prime businesses in the town is Pierpont Funeral Home.” He added, “Which has a state-of-the-art crematorium.”
Cara felt sick. “Darcy’s mother was supposed to deliver her daughter to that place to be killed, then cremated?” The sheer cold-bloodedness of the action chilled her to the bone. The vision of Sylvie, who Darcy had said was always filled with innocence and joy, being driven to her death with no idea what was awaiting her. “Monsters.”
“Yes.” He added, “Though in this case, Felicity Jordan might not have known what was going to happen to Sylvie. Her husband said that she’d only been told she had to deliver Sylvie, not what was going to take place there.”
“She was still a monster for being involved at all.”
“I’m not arguing. I just wanted to give you the entire picture when you talk to Darcy. I’m inclined to believe that Felicity had no prior knowledge of what was waiting for them. She only thought she was being forced to hand over the prize who’d been furnishing Felicity and her husband a luxurious living for the last several years.”
“To be shot, then cremated,” she said harshly. “I don’t think that Darcy will—” She stopped as she realized how carefully he’d been phrasing his words. “Waiting for them?” she repeated. “The entire picture? What are you saying, Jock?”
“I’m saying that I’ve spent the last seven hours with Alan Pierpont and his son, who appear to be just as much scum as the people who hired them to dispose of the remains. It took a good deal of persuasion, but I got the entire story out of them. They were a bit annoyed that they’d had a guest staying with them for more than twenty-four hours because of the cremation of the young woman. Otherwise, they would have been done with their business in a matter of a few hours.” He paused. “Because they only buried the older woman in a plot in the cemetery.”
Shock.
“They killed Felicity Jordan, too?” she whispered.
“They could control her husband, but I’d bet they weren’t sure about her. Mothers can be so emotional about their children.”
“That hasn’t been my experience,” she said dully.
“I know,” Jock said. “And I don’t have any idea how much faith or love Darcy could still have in her mother. But children struggle to keep love alive, even when it’s not deserved. All I could do was give you the facts as they were given to me.”
“And Pierpont was telling the truth?”
“Without a doubt.”
“And the ‘guest’ that stayed with Pierpont while Sylvie was being cremated? Did you get a name or description?”
“Yes, Pierpont wasn’t given a name, but it wasn’t Manard who met Felicity there.” He paused. “I showed Pierpont the photo that Joe sent me. Rory Norwalk. Positive ID.”
“So much for his not working outside England and Ireland. Then he was an accomplice to Manard.”
“Or vice versa. I don’t know who was pulling the strings. I’ll find out when I question Manard later this evening. I’ve just called my man, Benoit, to confirm that Manard will be at his villa at the shore tonight and find out what I’ll have to deal with when I get there. I’m on my way to his place now.”
The words filled her with panic. “No, you shouldn’t go. You’ve found out enough. Come home.”
“After I talk to Manard. He’s a kingpin gambler and drug dealer. Norwalk might have just worked for him. I have to make sure.”
“Then call the police or Interpol or someone else to talk to Manard.”
“I have a better chance of getting the information. I have no rules to worry about. Look, Norwalk killed Sylvie and her mother. Pierpont said he stayed in that crematorium and watched Sylvie’s body burn but had him stop it so he could remove the head, then finished the cremation. I’d say that would require a good deal more employee devotion than most employers could expect. I’d opt for partner or even boss.”
And the hideous picture he’d drawn for her frightened her almost as much as the idea of Jock’s staying and dealing with Manard. “Why?” Cara asked. “Why is this happening, Jock?”
“We’ll find out. Right now, we just deal with it. Or rather, you deal with it. It’s not going to be easy for you to tell Darcy.”
“No.” She looked out at Darcy and Michael still playing in the water. Smiles. Laughter. Life. She didn’t want to bring that moment to an end. “Not easy. But it has to be done.” She swallowed. “I’m not going to be able to talk you into dropping everything right now and coming here, am I?”
“It’s going to be okay, Cara,” he said quietly.
“That doesn’t mean you’re doing the right thing. I hate this. Good-bye, Jock.” She pressed the disconnect. Don’t think about him, or the panic would start again.
And she had her own painful job to do. Her gaze shifted back to Darcy. The golden child from Golden Days shimmering in the sunlight, hair wet, skin beaded with water, but beautiful, vibrant, and a smile that lit up the world around her.
But Darcy had suddenly turned to face Cara and her smile was fading as she saw her expression. Darcy waved at Michael, then was swimming swiftly back toward Cara.
And the day no longer seemed golden, but overcast as Cara got to her feet and waited for Darcy to reach the shore.
CHAPTER
7
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” Darcy whispered. “I never thought of Felicity dying. Even when you told me about Sylvie, I thought that nothing would ever happen to my mother. She was too strong, too much in control. All my life, she controlled Sylvie and me. I even thought that maybe Sylvie’s death might be a terrible mistake, and my mother would pop up with some plan that would make me dance through her hoops again.”
“No terrible mistake, Darcy.”
She shook her head. “No, I guess not. You’re … sure she was killed?”
“Jock is sure.”
“She must have been … surprised.”
“I don’t know. Jock thinks the entire situation surprised her. It wasn’t how she was thinking the situation would be going.”
Another silence.
“I’m alone now. It feels … strange. I guess I have to see about … arrangements, don’t I?”
“Not at the moment. You have time. All you have to do is accept what’s happened. We’ll take care of everything else later.”
She tried to smile. “You’re being very gentle and treating me like a slightly addled child. I thank you, but I don’t really need that right now. I’m sorry that my mother turned out to be a selfish bitch to the very end though it’s no surprise to me. Am I supposed to applaud the fact that she didn’t realize exactly what she’d done to Sylvie?” She shook her head. “Mothers are supposed to protect their children. She failed miserably, and I doubt if I’ll ever forgive her. Or myself, for not seeing how far she would go and protecting Sylvie from her.”