Halfway across the lawn she hesitated, glancing up at the house. Rising on stilts, the looming white structure, so charming by daylight, had always seemed a little spooky to Shelby in the darkness. It wasnt so much the house itself that was eerie as the area beneath. Enclosed in whitewashed latticework, the spider-infested space was used to store everything from garden tools to trunks of old schoolbooks.
Once upon a time, Shelby and Nathan had commandeered the enclosure as a secret clubhouse. But after that fateful summer night, Shelby had considered that cool, smelly dankness a prime hiding place for her monster. She wouldnt go near it.
Even now, she could almost feel eyes staring at her from the darkness, and she hurried up the porch steps, resisting the impulse to glance down. Or over her shoulder at the river.
A light shone through the lace curtain at the front door, and Shelby breathed a sigh of relief. Her grandmother had said Aline Henley had been keeping an eye on the place since the accident and had come by today to tidy up and stock the refrigerator. Annabel must have cautioned Aline to leave a light on for Shelby.
Using her grandmothers key, she opened the door and stepped inside, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. This was better, she thought. Homey. Comforting. Nothing the least bit frightening in here.
Everything was exactly the way she remembered it, although the plank flooring was a little duller, the furniture a little shabbier. But with her grandmothers touch almost everywhere, it still felt more like home than any place Shelby had ever lived with her parents.
The living room was to her left, a long, narrow area decorated with an old-fashioned settee, velvet tufted chairs and a Tiffany-style lamp that gave off a soft, greenish glow. There were ferns everywhere, hanging at the windows that looked out on the river and in terra-cotta frogs and turtles flanking the brick fireplace. The fronds stirred gently under the ceiling fan, and the sluggish movement, coupled with the verdant lamp glow, gave the room an odd, underwater feel that Shelby had never noticed before.
Leaving the front door open, she went back out to the car to get her bags. The scent of the river followed her back inside. Setting her suitcases in the hallway, Shelby turned quickly to close and lock the door as a sense of aloneness settled over her.
She wondered if Nathan was still her nearest neighbor, and wished suddenly that she had asked him earlier if he was living in his fathers house. Knowing that Nathan was nearby had once been a great comfort to Shelby.
But he was right. Things had changed since then.
She recalled what hed said about fate playing strange tricks. His words disturbed her, not because of the melancholia they invoked, but because of the edge of bitterness shed heard in his voice. The hardness shed glimpsed in his eyes. When shed thought about Nathan Dallas over the years, shed pictured him traveling the world, living the fascinating, adventurous life hed always seemed destined for.
As a kid, Shelby couldnt imagine how he could ever top diving for pearls. It had seemed like the most romantic profession in the world to her then, and shed thought Nathan just about the bravest, most exciting person shed ever known. Shed suffered from a bad case of hero worship that first summer, but, of course, she hadnt let him know that. Hed been too full of himself as it was.
As Shelby had grown older and learned more about the pearling industry from her grandmother, shed come to understand what a truly grueling occupation diving was. And dangerous, with the rivers treacherous currents and all the fishing nets and lines to contend with.
Not to mention loggerhead turtles, she thought with a smile. Those particular bottom-feeders had been Nathans secret terror, hed once confided.
Shed liked knowing that even Nathan Dallas was afraid of something.
Picking up her bags, Shelby carried them upstairs and down the hallway to her old bedroom. An alcove of windows, draped with lace, looked out on the river, and almost against her will, Shelby crossed the room and stood staring out at the water.
After a moment, she started to turn away, but a movement on the water stilled her. A series of circles, undulating in the moonlight, grew wider and wider until they lapped gently at the bank.
Chapter Three
Nathan? You got a minute? Virgil Dallass booming voice carried over the usual pandemonium of the newsroom. He stood in the doorway of his office, and when Nathan glanced up from his monitor, his uncle motioned him inside.
Clearing his computer screen, Nathan smothered a groan. In the three months since his uncle had offered him a partnership in the paper, Nathan had had difficulty asserting his autonomy as editor. Hed entered the relationship on one contingency: that he be allowed complete editorial freedom. He would run the newsroom while Virgil would remain at the helm as publisher and business manager.
But Virgil couldnt quite relinquish control. Hed managed every aspect of the paper for over thirty years, and he couldnt help offering unsolicited advice on everything from the editorials to the obits.
His uncles obstinacy sometimes grated on Nathans nerves, but he knew he had to suck it up for one very good reason. He had nowhere else to go. Hed once been an award-winning reporter for one of the most respected newspapers in Washington, D.C., but by the age of thirty, he was finished. Unemployable. A has-been. A freelance hack for the tabloids because no reputable newspaper in the country would touch him after one of his stories had been repudiated as a fraud. Hed trusted the wrong source, and just like that, his career was over.
The partnership with his uncle was Nathans last chance to prove his journalistic worth, to redeem not just his career and reputation, but his self-respect.
But working at the Argus was proving to be more of a challenge than Nathan had anticipated. For one thing, hed been astounded to learn how poorly managed the paper had been in the last few years as Virgils age and flagging health had taken a toll. Circulation and ad sales were at an all-time low, and the paper relied much too heavily on fillerstories picked up from news serviceswith no real reporting. If the trend couldnt be reversed, the Argus was destined to go the way of so many small-town newspapers. First, they would have to cut back from a daily circulation to weekly, and then perhaps fold altogether.
Nathan couldnt allow that to happen. Hed poured every last cent he had into the partnership, but it was more than just financial ruin he had at stake here.
He stuck his head inside his uncles office. You wanted to see me?
Close the door. Virgil leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as Nathan took a seat across from his desk.
At sixty, his uncle was still an impressive-looking man. Tall and muscular, with keen eyes and a thoughtful, if sometimes mulish, disposition, he had the same world-weary air Nathan had seen on editors and publishers of much larger publications. His hair was completely gray and his face heavily lined by a lifetime of deadlines, pressure andNathan suspectedhard drinking. He wouldnt be the first Dallas to succumb to the temptation of the bottle.
I heard about Danny Weathers at the diner this morning, Virgil said grimly.
Nathan nodded. I was with the Buford boys last night when they found the body.
Nathan nodded. I was with the Buford boys last night when they found the body.
His uncle unfolded his hands and placed them on the desk, leaning toward Nathan intently. I heard that, too. What were you thinking, son? What in the holy hell were you doing out on the river with that pair of lowlifes?
As always, Nathan grew a little defensive. I had my reasons. Besides, Im a grown man. You dont have to worry about bad influences anymore.
Hell, its too late to worry about that, Virgil blurted.
Yeah, Im a lost cause, Nathan agreed.
As if regretting his harsh words, Virgils expression softened. If I thought you were a lost cause, you wouldnt be here, son.
I appreciate that. Nathan paused, then prompted, So, is that what you wanted to see me about?
Partly. I wanted to find out what you knew about the accident.
Not much. Only that I seem to be the only one who isnt convinced it was an accident. I hope Sheriff McCaid has the good sense to treat this case as a homicide.
Homicide? Virgil looked as if the word were almost foreign to him. Why would he do that?
Its standard procedure. Evidence could be destroyed or lost if he waits for the autopsy results. Nathan glanced at his uncle. Of course, maybe thats the whole point.
Virgil gave him a long, worried appraisal. This isnt Washington, D.C., son. Theres not some vast conspiracy behind every accident. He put quotation marks in the air with his fingers. Youve got to learn to think like a small-town newspaperman, not like some hotshot city reporter. If you dont, youre apt to make yourself some real enemies around here.
Isnt that the purpose of the fourth estate? Nathan argued. To be cynical? To question motives? Were supposed to be the publics watchdog, not some cuddly pet who rolls over and plays dead. He leaned forward in his chair, as if to stress his point. You can bet Im going to be all over this story, no matter who I tick off. If Danny Weathers was murdered, I wont rest until his killer is exposed.
Virgil sighed, running a hand through his gray hair. Look, son, youre the editor now, and far be it for me to tell you how to do your job. But if you ask me, theres another story right in your own backyard you ought to be focusing on.
Nathan lifted a brow. Which is?
Shelby Westmoreland. I hear shes back.
That tingle again at the very mention of her name. Nathan said carefully, Yeah, shes back. I saw her last night. But her names August now. Shes married.
No, shes widowed.
She is? Nathan tried to keep his tone neutral, but the truth was he still hadnt gotten over the shock of seeing her last night. Shed been sixteen when shed left Arcadia for the last time. Her parents had come for her after yet another reconciliation, but Nathan had consoled himself with a certainty that shed soon return. Her parents would split up again, as they always did, and Shelby would be shipped back to her grandmother.
But months had passed, and then a year. Eventually, even her letters had stopped. Nathan had finally become convinced that he would never see her again.
But there shed stood last night, looking a little too much like the girl hed never been able to forget.
And now his uncle had informed him that she was a widow. What kind of person would feel happy about that?
How long has her husband been dead? he heard himself ask.
Just over a year. He was murdered.
A shock wave rolled through Nathan. My God, what happened?
Virgil shrugged. Best I recollect, he owned some kind of restoration business. Antiques, I think. He was working alone in his office when a gunman walked in, made him open the safe and then shot him dead. Shelby was the one who found the body.
Damn. No wonder shed seemed so fragile last night. So frightened.
Virgil nodded, his expression sober. That was bad enough, but it got worse. Turned out shed seen the killer driving away when she pulled into the parking lot. She was able to give the police a description. Even remembered part of the license plate under hypnosis. There was an all-out manhunt for a man named Albert Lunt, but he managed to elude the police for weeks. Then Lunt started making threats toward Shelby.
What kind of threats?
You name it. He made phone calls. Stalked her. The police even suspected he killed her dog, maybe as a warning, maybe because he was just one sick S.O.B. She was assigned protection, but eventually Lunt made his move. He broke into her house one night and waited for her with a knife. The police officer outside heard her scream and came running, but not before Lunt attacked her. Cut her pretty badly from what I heard, but she must have fought him like a demon, or he would have killed her. The cop shot him, but the wound was superficial. Lunt stood trial a few months later and was convicted of first-degree murder.
And Shelby?
She was in the hospital for a while. Annabel went out to California to be with her. She told her neighbor, Aline Henley, the girl was a mess, more so emotionally than physically.
I dont doubt it, Nathan muttered. He didnt want to think about Shelby in the hospital, fighting for her life. He didnt want to think of her terrified, at the mercy of a brutal killer. He liked to remember her in that pink dress, sitting on her grandmothers front porch.
He glanced at his uncle. As fascinating as all this is, I dont see what difference it makes. You said it happened over a year ago. Its not news. Wheres the story?
The story is not what happened to Shelby out in L.A., Virgil said impatiently. Its what happened to her here.
You mean the monster sighting? Come on. That isnt news, either. Besides, James Westmoreland said he concocted the whole thing for profit. You printed his confession yourself.
Virgil shook his finger at Nathan, a habit he had when he wanted to drive home a pointor browbeat Nathan into doing something he didnt want to. Listen to me, son. It doesnt matter if she saw a monster that night or not. It doesnt matter if she saw anything. What matters is that she became a celebrity. Her story was carried by major newspapers all over the country. She was even on the Tonight show. You dont think people would be interested in finding out what happened to the little girl who cried monster?
Something stirred in the pit of Nathans stomach. Revulsion mixed with anger. Are you suggesting we exploit Shelbys personal tragedy for the sake of some human-interest piece? That isnt reporting. Its gossip. Tabloid journalism.
With which you arent unfamiliar, Virgil was quick to point out.
Nathan counted to ten, reminding himself that he owed his uncle more than he could ever repay him. If he had to take a little ego-bashing once in a while, so be it.
Virgil eyed him sagely. What Im trying to say is that youre chasing a pipe dream when you go after Takamura. You think youre going to uncover some big exposé out there on the river that will put you back where you were three years ago, but thats not going to happen. That part of your life is over.
I realize that, Nathan said through gritted teeth.
Virgil stared at him for a moment. Im not sure you do. The Argus is a chance for you to start over, rebuild your life. But you have to realize, things are different down here. Priorities are different. Takamura Industries helps put food on the table for a lot of folks in this town, so they dont much care whats going on inside that lab. But Shelby WestmorelandWhy, hell, son. She once claimed she saw the Pearl River Monster.