Death was coming.

* * *

Sean dropped the phone back into his pocket, letting the call go to his voice mail the way he did all the other calls from Cat. He’d have to talk to her sooner or later, but after his earlier conversation with Sarah had ended so unpleasantly, he was in no mood for a confrontation with his wife. Besides, he already knew how the conversation would play out.

She’d demand to know where he was, and he’d get defensive and evasive, which would set her off even more. Then the tears would start, and she’d end up begging him to come home so they could talk things out, even though he’d made it clear the only reason he’d be returning to their apartment was to pick up the rest of his things. As far as he was concerned, the marriage was over. All he wanted was out.

Sean wasn’t proud of his behavior. Any decent man would tough it out and give the marriage and his wife a fair chance. But the outcome would be the same no matter how long he and Cat stayed together. It was never going to work for one simple reason—Sean wasn’t in love with her and probably never had been. And worse, he didn’t even like her very much these days.

How he’d let things get this far, he had no idea. Rushing into marriage so soon after his breakup with Sarah had been stupid and reckless, and she’d been right to call him on it. He had been looking for someone safe. Someone who could give him sanctuary from the horror show his job had become.

At the time, he’d thought that was Cat. Seeing her in the restaurant that day had been like a breath of fresh air. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled, made him forget for a moment how ugly his life had become.

And the physical attraction had been off the hook. Even in high school, Cat had been a knockout, but in her thirties now, she’d grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. A tall, graceful blonde whose unwavering attention during those first few months had been extremely flattering. Embarrassingly so, looking back.

She was as different from Sarah as night and day, and it had been easy for Sean to convince himself that she was the one. That she was so much better for him. He and Sarah fed off each other’s doom and gloom, and the angst had become exhausting.

It had gotten to the point where Sean had dreaded going home because he was afraid of what he might find.

But the problem was, Sarah was also the most fascinating woman he’d ever known. And she wasn’t as easy to get over as he’d hoped.

Outwardly, she was no match for Cat. Sarah’s beauty took time to sink in. You had to look past all the heavy eye makeup and outlandish hairstyles, and even then, you could never be certain whether the woman you found underneath the mask was the real thing or yet another intriguing facade.

Sean had latched onto Cat because Sarah overwhelmed him. More to the point, she scared the hell out of him.

Her sister’s murder had done something to her. She’d never been able to move on. It ate at her even after all these years, and nothing that came before or after was ever going to be as important to her, not even Sean. Fine. He could have lived with that, but the secrets she kept locked inside were a different story. They worried him, those secrets. They sometimes kept him awake at night.

He’d once naively thought that by solving Rachel’s murder he could somehow free Sarah of her demons. But the harder he looked and the deeper he dug, the darker his suspicions became until one day he’d stopped searching. Because he’d come to the very grim realization that the truth of what had happened that night in Adamant, Arkansas, might be a truth he didn’t want to face.

Those suspicions were what had driven him from Sarah. On some level, he’d been trying to protect them both. Cat had been just a convenient excuse.

So why the hell couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Sarah was out of his life now. If he still cared for her at all—and he did—he’d let this go and allow her to get on with her life the best way she knew how.

Let sleeping dogs lie, Danny would advise him.

But Sean had never been that great at taking advice.

He paid for his drink and left the bar on Decatur. The blast of cold air that blew off the river drew a deep shiver down his spine and he pulled his coat around him as he walked along the narrow streets like a weary soldier. It was after eleven and he was exhausted, but instead of heading back to his car, he crossed Jackson Square and turned up St. Peter, past St. Louis Cathedral and the Cabildo.

A trumpet player stood underneath the famous lamppost in Pirate’s Alley serenading a handful of tourists. The mournful song touched something deep inside Sean, and he found himself hurrying away from the melancholy wail toward the driving rock beat that throbbed from the bars and clubs on Bourbon Street.

For him, this was the heart of the Quarter. Here, time never mattered, because day or night, a party could be found somewhere, even in the middle of a hurricane. No other seven-block stretch in the world was more evocative of erotic indulgence than Bourbon Street.

Sean was always reminded of something he’d read in an Ian Fleming novel as a kid. He hadn’t understood the sentiment at the time, but now he often thought that the soul-erosion excess Fleming spoke of was the perfect way to describe Bourbon Street. Sean’s senses had been awakened to the decadence a long time ago, but instead of revolting, he found himself coming back night after night, especially on evenings like this when he could feel himself slipping into a strange restlessness.

He didn’t want to go home to Cat and he couldn’t go home to Sarah.

Disconnected from the music and crowds, he wandered the streets aimlessly, like a ghost drifting through a world in which he no longer belonged.

Solitude had never sat well with Sean. He wasn’t a man comfortable with his own thoughts. He needed something or someone to fill up the empty hours because soul-searching wasn’t his style. There were too many unanswered questions in his life. Too many loose ends.

Too many roads leading him back to a woman whose past frightened him almost as much as it intrigued him.

Chapter 14

January

Adamant, Arkansas

A cool breeze whispered through the sycamore tree outside Sarah’s window. From one of the branches, Ashe could see right into her room. He’d spent a lot of time in that tree. Especially after dark, when the risk of detection was slight. Her room faced the backyard, so the tree was only visible from the cottage. That could be a problem, but Ashe was always careful to come on moonless nights.

Besides, he’d always thought it was a risk worth taking. Although observing Sarah through the window wasn’t as satisfying—or as exciting—as the times he’d spent alone in her room, sifting through her things.

Those secret forays had taught him so much about her...the books she read, the music she listened to. He even knew her favorite movie, and as his eyes lifted to the poster above her bed, he wondered if she’d put it all together yet, if she realized the significance of the pale, familiar face that watched over her every night while she slept.

Overhead, dark clouds drifted across the winter sky, but through the occasional crack in the darkness, Ashe could see stars. He gazed at the pinpoints for a long time, mesmerized by the twinkling light. On a night like this, so dark he was like a shadow, his senses came fully awake and it was easy to ignore those persistent voices in his head that confused and infuriated him. He hated those voices because they took him away from his world and dumped him back into a place that for him had no meaning, no purpose. No Sarah.

He shifted his position, moving a little closer to the window, but still careful not to attract her attention. He never let her see him outside her window. For one thing, he didn’t want to frighten her, and for another, their twilight meetings at the farmhouse were much safer...for both of them.

Tonight he would make an exception, though. He would break his own rules because he had something very important to show her.

A thrill raced up his spine as he tried to anticipate her reaction, but he had no idea what it would be. Sarah was nothing if not unpredictable and that was one of the things he admired about her. Only one of the many things that kept him tied to her.

He watched her now as her hand flew across the sketch pad on her desk. Head bowed, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, she was oblivious to his vigil, oblivious to the way her life would soon be changed forever.

Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass.

Sarah’s head shot up, and when she saw him, her eyes widened and she seemed a little frightened at first. She rose and crossed the room quietly, checked the hallway, then closed and locked her door.

She hurried over to the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in an excited whisper.

Ashe smiled at the sound. “I want you to come with me. I have something to show you.”

“Really? What is it?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

Her eyes lit. “You mean like a present? I have one for you, too. I know it’s after Christmas and all, but...do you want to come in and see it?”

Ashe hesitated. Breaking two of the rules might be asking for trouble, but Sarah looked so excited and eager. He glanced around. The cottage windows were all dark, and the moon was still covered by clouds. No one would see him, surely.

“Turn off the light first,” he said. “Bright lights hurt my eyes.”

“But...you won’t be able to see your present in the dark,” she protested.

“You can leave on the lamp.”

She turned off the overhead light and switched on the lamp beside her bed. Once the room was dim, Ashe climbed through the window and sniffed the air, letting Sarah’s scent wash over him.

The forbidden familiarity of her room excited him because he knew so many of her secrets. And it was almost time to share with her the darkest secret of all, but he had to prepare her first.

Tonight, it would begin.

Absently, he picked up a yellow porcelain bird from her desk and cradled it in his palm. He’d always wondered about that bird. Normally, she kept it in a glass case on her nightstand.

She saw his interest and smiled. “My grandmother gave that to me when I was little. She collected porcelain birds. She kept them in a locked case in her parlor and I found the key. I took one out and accidentally broke off a wing. I hid it so I wouldn’t get in trouble. But when Grandma found it, all she did was make me help her glue the wing back on. And then she gave it to me to keep because she said a wounded bird needed someone special to care for it.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Does your grandmother live around here?”

“Nah, she died a long time ago. Just a few weeks after she gave me that bird. Sometimes I wonder if she knew she was going to go and that’s why she gave it to me. She wanted me to have something of hers. I used to pretend that her soul lived inside it. That’s why I kept it beside my bed. So it was the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning.” Gently she took the bird from his hand and returned it to the glass case.

When she turned, her smile was unexpectedly shy. “This is kind of weird, isn’t it? You being in my room and all.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I haven’t given you your present yet.” She walked over to her desk and picked up her drawing pad. “It’s not finished yet, but...ta-dah!”

She handed him the sketch pad with a flourish, and Ashe turned it toward the lamp, taking care, as always, to keep his face shadowed. As he stared down at Sarah’s drawing, a slow tremor crawled through him. For a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

For the first time, he saw himself...the way Sarah saw him. It was as if she’d gazed straight down into his soul. And what she’d found when she peeled back the outer layers was something dark and beautiful and terrifying.

“You don’t like it,” she said after a moment.

“No, I do...” He was so overcome with emotion, he could hardly speak.

“Some people don’t like the way I draw them,” she said quietly. “But it’s like...I don’t know...like I can peer inside them somehow. What I draw isn’t always what they want to see.”

“You have a gift,” he said. “Your grandmother was right, Sarah. You are special.”

“Yeah, sure. Try telling that to my old man.” She laughed, but for a moment, he swore he saw the glint of tears in her eyes before she turned away.

“He already knows you’re special,” Ashe said. “And it threatens him.”

“Why would that threaten him?”

“You’ll figure it out one of these days. Maybe what I have to show you tonight will help you.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

She followed him out the window and they climbed down the tree together. The night was dark, but they stayed among the shadows anyway until they were safely away from the house. Up the path to the cottage, through the orchard, across the cotton field. To their special place.