Cold Target Part 51

Someone had killed her father. Someone had killed a friend of her mother's. Her great-aunt might well have been murdered. There was no way she could continue to live under that shadow. Nor would she give up her search for her sister or the truth about what had destroyed her mother's happiness.

She still had avenues to explore. Her father's records, for one. He kept meticulous notes on everything. She wanted to go through each of his files at the office. There was still the attorney in Memphis. And now they had one more piece of the puzzle: Dom's arrest. It placed Prescott's murder right in the middle of that puzzle.

Meredith was conscious of all the eyes on her. Sympathetic eyes. Curious eyes. Malevolent eyes?

The minister referred to her mother's many charitable endeavors, calling her the heart of the city. Meredith had chosen the music, distressed that she didn't even know what her mother's favorite hymns might be. She had selected her own.

She felt numb as the last prayer was said and the pallbearers escorted the coffin out. There would be a brief graveside service, then the reception at her parents' home. The second in a week.

Caterers were already there, along with Sarah and Becky, who had volunteered again to stay during the service and supervise. Gage had also sent his detective friend Mack to ensure their safety. The private detective had been mortified at losing her when she'd gone to Memphis. He had been told to stay with her whether she wanted his protection or not.

He wanted to make amends.

And then?

There were a million things to do. Both her father's and mother's wills would have to be probated. She would have to make decisions about their estates, particularly the house.

More importantly, there was a killer--or killers--to be found.

There was, of course, the matter of survival as well.

She accepted condolences from those who wouldn't attend the graveside service, then rode with Gage in the limousine to the cemetery. She wondered whether she could get through the next few hours. Her heart cried, even if her eyes didn't. She still couldn't quite comprehend everything that had happened and the impact it would have on her .life.

Gage said little, but his hand had been at the small of her back as they left the church. It was protective, proprietary and evident. They had discussed the wisdom of his appearing as an escort, but he had ended the discussion abruptly by saying he was going to be there ... by her side.

Thank G.o.d. She felt wrapped in his warmth. It helped fill the emptiness that continued to haunt her. In the limousine, he'd recaptured her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

"Do you think he was there?" she asked. She didn't have to say who. The killer. Or killers.

"I would bet my last dollar on it."

"The cream of New Orleans society," she said bitterly.

"Not all of them, love. Just one."

"Or two. Or three," she amended. "How many lives have they destroyed? And for what reason? Everything comes back to that."

He put an arm around her and pulled her close to him. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

They would discuss murder later. Now was the time to mourn.

Gage watched as the last person left the Rawson home.

Meredith had thanked Sarah and Becky for their help and sent Mrs. Edwards home. Then Meredith, looking exhausted, collapsed on a sofa.

She looked vulnerable, but he knew that wasn't true. She had a core of pure steel. His admiration had grown steadily in the past two weeks.

She gave him a wan smile. "I survived."

"With flying colors. I don't know if I could have done it."

She gave him a long look. "I have no doubts you could."

He liked that vote of confidence. He'd experienced any number of emotions today. One of them, he realize with dismay, that he was falling in love.

Dammit. He didn't want those feelings. She was emotionally vulnerable now.

No amount of practicality or reason could have kept him from her side today.

As for increasing the danger to Meredith, he didn't think it could become any more intense than it already was. Someone was determined to stop at any cost inquiries into events of three years ago. Each succeeding death only added to the desperate need to protect one particular secret.

He was very aware that whoever was behind the deaths would probably come after him now. He welcomed that. He was prepared.

He also realized they had more discreet ways of destroying him than murder. Most likely they would try to plant drugs on him or his property. Both his troubled history at the department and a brother who was serving time for drug distribution would a.s.sist any such effort.

He didn't intend for that to happen. Nor did he intend to discuss it with Meredith. He wouldn't give her an excuse to escape his protection again.

As smart as she was, she'd probably already considered the possibility.

"Want a drink?" he asked her now.

"I would love one," she replied, "but I don't think I should. I need to keep all my wits about me."

He sat down next to her. "Do you remember everyone you saw today at the funeral? I know some of them but not all."

"I think so."

He had taken the guest book after the service. He handed it to her. "See if there is anyone you remember who didn't sign the book."

She worked mechanically, jotted down a few more names, then gave it back to him.

"I think we can delete the mayor," he said. "He was too young at the time." He went through them all, crossing them off or putting a check next to their names as possibles. The possibles were people who were in their mid-fifties or older. Another requirement was someone with political power. Someone had exerted influence to have him taken off the Prescott case.

Newcomers--anyone who hadn't lived in New Orleans for the past thirty years--were crossed off the list.

When they finished, he had sixteen names of possible suspects, all of whom were considered among the city's elite.

He handed the list to Meredith. She studied it silently. "And now we see whether any of them has a daughter born in February 1970."

"Yep."

"They are all prominent enough to be subjects of newspaper stories. We can eliminate them one by one."

"Bingo," he said.

"We might be on the wrong track."

"But it's the fastest train we have now. You could go through your father's files, but that might take weeks, even months."

She stood, looking uncertain.

Overload, he realized. "Let's go to my house," he said, trying to interpret her uncertainty. "Dom can meet us there."

"And we have Beast," she said.

"Did Sarah say anything about Nicky?"

"She would like to keep him if no one claims him." She gave him a wry smile. "I thought about keeping him, but Sarah has children. She's home more than I am. Especially now. It's best for the dog." Her voice was wistful.

"There are always dogs needing a home," he said. "In the meantime you can share Beast. He'll be more than happy to oblige."

Her smile was heartbreaking. He felt like Lancelot. Ivanhoe. All the heroes he'd admired as a boy. He'd never felt like that before.

He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. Gentle. Achingly tender. His heart caught, skipped a beat. His hand touched her cheek. It was cold.

He released her lips. "Let's get out of here," he said.

He locked the door as they left the house. She stopped suddenly as she saw a car parked across the street, then relaxed as she seemed to recognize it.

"Mack Thomas," he said. "He's been watching the house and my car. He's very chagrined that you lost him."

"He shouldn't be. I've been helping battered wives escape husbands for several years now. I know all the tricks."

"So should he," Gage said critically. Still, he gave a small wave as they walked to his car. "Do you want to take yours?"

She nodded.

"I'll follow you."

"And Mack will follow you?" she asked with a slight smile. "We'll look conspicuously like a parade."

"He will go ahead and check out the house," he said. "You can meander a bit."

"No one would go inside with Beast there."

"Beast, unfortunately, is a marshmallow. Anyway, it's just a precaution."

"I think I should go home. Alone. I don't want anyone else hurt because of me. I have a gun. I'll be careful."

"Isn't going to happen, love." The word slipped out, just as it had earlier. "I'm not going to leave your side."

She looked at him. "Even if I asked you?"

"No."

Her face clouded with fear, but this time he knew it was for him, not herself.

"The sooner we find whoever is behind this, the sooner you can get your life back," he said. "It won't be soon if we're at cross purposes, or if I have to spend valuable time trying to find you. It won't lessen their need to get me out of the picture. I already know too much."

"And Dom?"

"I think he's put himself into the picture. He wants to find his daughter, and like you, he's h.e.l.l-bent on doing it."

They reached her car and he opened the door for her. She slid in, gave him a rueful smile and nodded her head.

He hoped to h.e.l.l she meant it.

Mack met them at the house, a grim look on his face.

Meredith and Gage had arrived within seconds of each other.

The moment Gage saw his face, he knew what had happened. "Drugs?"

"Cocaine in the bottom drawer of your dresser in the bedroom. Enough to charge you with distribution. I flushed it down the toilet but I think you should conduct a more thorough search."

"Beast?"

"Wobbly. Whoever planted it probably drugged him."

He went into the kitchen, aware that Meredith was right behind him. Beast was collapsed on the floor, tongue hanging out, eyes not as bright as usual. Gage dropped next to him, scratched behind his ears. "Bad day, huh, guy?"

Beast looked at him pitiably, as if he knew he failed miserably.

"I knew what I was getting," he told the dog. "That's okay."

The tail swished once.

Fury and relief flooded him. Beast was breathing fine. He would have to sleep it off. In the meantime, he wanted to check the rest of the house with Mack. He suspected the DEA or officers from the NOPD would be knocking shortly.

"What can I do?" Meredith asked.

"You take the kitchen. Look under the sink, the fridge, in the coffee can--any place you can conceive of being a hiding place. Mack checked the most obvious hiding place, my bedroom. But they might have left a second stash."

He took his office. He went through every office drawer, peered behind books in the bookcases. Having been on the drug squad not so many years ago, he knew where to look.

"Gage!"

Meredith's voice. He hurried into the kitchen. She held a plastic bag filled with white powder.

"Where was it?"

"A can of coffee."

"They're not very imaginative," he said. He took the package to the bathroom and flushed the contents down, then the bag.

Meredith followed and he saw the worried look on her face. "Gage?"

h.e.l.l, she was an attorney, and what he was doing was destroying evidence. He suddenly realized he had placed her in an untenable position.