Dinah heard a thud somewhere in the house.
Then it came again-a faint, distant creaking this time. She listened another moment. Nothing.
A shrill sound broke the silence, and she started, heart hammering. Then, realizing what it was, she shook her head at her own foolishness, snatched her cell phone out of her bag and pressed the button.
Hello? Her voice came out oddly breathless.
Is everything all right? Marc asked. You dont sound quite yourself.
Its nothing. Really. I was just scaring myself, thinking I heard someone in the house.
Get out. Now. The demand was sharp and fast as the crack of a whip.
Holding the phone clutched tightly against her ear, Dinah raced across the room, through the hallway, and plunged out the door.
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
SIGN ME UP!
Or simply visit
signup.millsandboon.co.uk
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels shes found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When shes not writing, shes probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.
Marta loves hearing from readers and shell write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. E-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
MARTA PERRY
Season of Secrets
For now we see in a mirror, darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know full, even as I am known.
1 Corinthians 13:12
This story is dedicated to my granddaughter,
Greta Nicole Wulff, with much love from Grammy.
And, as always, to Brian.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Questions for Discussion
One
Why is he coming back now?
Aunt Kate put her morning cup of Earl Grey back in the saucer as she asked the question for what had to be the twentieth time since theyd heard the news, her faded blue eyes puckered with distress. December sunlight streamed through the lace curtains on the bay window in the breakfast room, casting into sharp relief the veins that stood out on her hand, pressed to the polished tabletop.
I dont know, Aunt Kate.
Love swept through Dinah Westlake, obliterating her own fears about Marc Devlins return to Charleston. She covered the trembling hand with her own, trying to infuse her great-aunt with her own warmth. Anger sparked. Marc shouldnt come back, upsetting their lives once again.
Maybe he just wants to sell the house since the Farriers moved out. Aunt Kate sounded hopeful, and she glanced toward the front window and the house that stood across the street in the quiet Charleston historic block.
Annabels house. The house where Annabel died.
Dinah forced herself to focus on the question. I suppose so. Do you know if hes bringing Court?
Her cousin Annabels son had been three when shed seen him last, and now he was thirteen. She remembered a soft, cuddly child whod snuggled up next to her, begging for just one more bedtime story. It was unlikely that Courtney would want or need anything from her now.
I dont know. Aunt Kates lips firmed into a thin line. I hope not.
Dinah blinked. Dont you want to see Courtney? This visit was the first indication that Marc would let his son have a relationship with his mothers kin that consisted of more than letters, gifts and brief thank-you notes.
Tears threatened to spill over onto her great-aunts soft cheeks. Of course I do. But that poor child shouldnt be exposed to the house where his mother died, even if it means I never see him again.
Aunt Kate Dinahs words died. She couldnt say anything that would make a difference, because she understood only too well what her aunt felt. She, too, had not been back in that house since Annabels funeral.
Except in the occasional nightmare. Then, she stood again on the graceful curving staircase of Annabel and Marcs house, looking down toward the dim hallway, hearing angry voices from the front parlor. Knowing something terrible was about to happen. Unable to prevent it.
Everyone will start talking about Annabels death again. Aunt Kate touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes, unable as always to say the uglier word. Murder. Just when its forgotten, people will start to talk again.
Something recoiled in Dinah. It seemed so disloyal never to talk about Annabel. Still, if that was how Aunt Kate dealt with the pain, maybe it was better than having nightmares.
She slid her chair back, patting her aunts hand. Dont worry about it too much. Im sure people are so busy getting ready for the Christmas holidays that Marc will have been and gone before anyone takes notice.
Her aunt clasped her hand firmly. Youre not going to the office today, are you? Dinah, you have to stay home. What if he comes?
It was no use pointing out to her that Dinah was going to police headquarters, not an office. Aunt Kate couldnt possibly refer to her as a forensic artist. In Aunt Kates mind, a Charleston lady devoted herself to the church, charity and society, not necessarily in that order.
I thought Id check in this morning. As a freelance police artist she only worked when called on, but shed found it helped her acceptance with the detectives to remind them of her presence now and then.
Please, Dinah. Stay home today.
Her hesitation lasted only an instant. Aunt Kate had taken care of her. Now it was her turn. She bent to press her cheek against Aunt Kates.
Of course I will, if thats what you want. But given the way hes cut ties with us, I dont expect Marcus Devlin to show up on our doorstep anytime soon.
Was she being a complete coward? Maybe so. But shed fought her way back from the terror of the night Annabel died, and she had no desire to revisit that dreadful time.
Please, God. Please let me forget.
That was a petition that was hardly likely to be granted, now that Marc Devlin was coming home.
After helping her aunt to the sunroom that looked over her garden, where she would doze in the winter sunshine, Dinah cleared the breakfast dishes. It was one of the few things Alice Jones, her aunts devoted housekeeper, allowed her to do to help.
Alice was nearly as old as her great-aunt, and the two of them couldnt hope to stay on in the elegant, inconvenient antebellum house on Tradd Street if she werent here. She wasnt even sure when shed gone from being the cosseted little girl of the house to being the caretaker, but she didnt see the situation changing anytime soon, and she wouldnt want it to.
A sound disturbed the morning quiet. Someone wielded the brass dolphin knocker on the front door with brisk energy. It could be anyone. Her stomach tightened; the back of her neck prickled. Instinct said it was Marc.
Heart thudding, she crossed the Oriental carpet that had covered the hall floor for a hundred years or so. She turned the brass doorknob and opened the door.
Instinct was right. Her cousins husband stood on the covered veranda, hand arrested halfway to the knocker. A shaft of winter sunlight, filtered through the branches of the magnolia tree, struck hair that was still glossy black.
For a moment, Dinah could only stare. It was Marc, of course, but in another sense it wasnt. This wasnt the intent, idealistic young prosecutor her teenage dreams had idolized.
Dinah. He spoke first, his deep voice breaking the spell that held her silent. Its been a long time.
Not by our choice, she said, before thinking about the implication.
The lines around his firm mouth deepened. I know. He quirked one eyebrow, and the familiar movement broke through her sense of strangeness. Are you going to let me come in?
She felt her cheeks warm. What was she doing, keeping him standing on the veranda like a door-to-door salesperson? No matter how much his return distressed Aunt Kate, she couldnt treat him as anything but the cousin-in-law hed always been to her.
She stepped back. Please, come in. She grasped for the comfort of ingrained manners. Its good to see you again, Marc.
He stepped into the wide center hallway, the movement seeming to stir the quiet air, and she had to suppress a gasp as pain gripped her heart. Forgotten? No, she hadnt forgotten at all. His presence brought her ten-year-old grief surging to life.
Was being here doing the same for him? She thought it mighthis face had tightened, but that was all. He was better at hiding his feelings than he used to be.
She had to say something, anything, to bridge the silence. She took refuge in the ordinary. Did you have a pleasant flight?
He shrugged. Not bad. Id forgotten how warm South Carolina can be in December.
That just shows how much of a Northerner youve become. Everyone here has been complaining that its too cold.
His face relaxed into a half smile. Wimp. You should try a Boston winter sometime to see what cold really is.
No, thanks. Ill pass.
He had changed. He was ten years older, of course. Ten years would change anyone. He lookedsuccessful, she supposed. Dress shirt, dark tie, a tweed jacket that fit smoothly over broad shoulders, a flash of gold at his wrist that was probably an expensive watch. Being a corporate attorney instead of a prosecutor must suit him.
But it wasnt so much the way he was dressed as the air about himthe air of a successful, accomplished man.
Well? He lifted that eyebrow again. Whats the verdict, Dinah?
She wouldnt pretend to misunderstand him. I was thinking that you talk faster than you used to.
He smiled. I had to learn because no one would stick around long enough to hear what I had to say.
The smile was a reminder of the Marc shed known. Dear Father, this is harder than Id imagined it could be. Please, get me through it.
Come into the parlor. However much she might wish hed leave, she couldnt stand here in the hall with him.
She turned and walked into the small, perfectly appointed front parlor. Hed find this familiar, she supposed. Aunt Kate hadnt changed anything in seventy years, and she never would. Anything that showed wear was replaced with an exact duplicate. Aunt Kate didnt bother to decorate for Christmas much in recent years, but the white mantel bore its usual evergreen, magnolia leaves and holly, studded with the fat ivory candles that would be lit Christmas Eve.
Dinah sat on the Queen Anne love seat, gesturing to the wing chair opposite. Marc sat, leaning back, seeming very much at ease. But the lines on his face deepened, and his dark eyes hid secrets.
Youve changed. His comment startled her, but it shouldnt. Hadnt she just been thinking the same about him? No one stayed the same for ten years.
Im ten years older. That makes a difference. Especially when it was the difference between an immature teen and an adult woman.
He shook his head. Its not just that. Youre not shy anymore.
Ive learned to hide it better, thats all.
Marc would remember the shy, gawky teenager shed once been. She could only hope hed never noticed the crush shed had on him.
Its easy to see that youre blooming. How is Aunt Kate?
And how, exactly, was she going to explain the fact that Aunt Kate wasnt coming in to greet him?
Shesolder, obviously. Shed deny it vehemently, but shes begun to fail a little.
So youre taking care of her.
Of course.
Thats how it is in families, Marc. We take care of each other. We dont walk away, the way you did.
He frowned slightly, and she had the uncomfortable sense that he knew what she was thinking.
Is she too frail to see me?
Her careful evasion had led her just where she didnt want to be. No. She just
She faltered to a halt. There wasnt any good way of saying that Aunt Kate didnt welcome his return.
She just doesnt want to see me. His mouth thinned. Tell me, does she think I killed Annabel?
The blunt question shook her, and mentioning Annabels name seemed to bring her into the room. For an instant Dinah heard the light tinkle of Annabels laugh, caught a whiff of the sophisticated fragrance that had been Annabels scent. Grief ripped through her, and she struggled to speak.
IIm sure she doesnt think that. But did she? With her firm avoidance of the subject, Aunt Kate had managed never to say.
His dark gaze seemed to reject the feeble words. What about you, Dinah? Do you think that?
Before she could find the words, he shook his head.
Never mind. I dont suppose it matters.
She found the words then, at the pain in his voice. I dont think you could have hurt Annabel.
How could anyone have hurt Annabel, have struck out and destroyed all that life, all that beauty?
His face seemed to relax a fraction. Thank you. Im selling the house. I suppose you guessed that.
We thought that was probably why youd come back, she said cautiously, not wanting to make it sound as if that was what she wanted.
Its time. Having the Farriers rent the place all these years let me drift, but when they decided to move, I knew I had to do something about the house.