“I don’t know if you heard or not,” I told her, “but the police felt they were close to an arrest. Then the prosecutor decided they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. And why she asked…”

“Asked what?” I had the feeling I wasn’t going to like this.

“Margaret wanted me to…help her.”

“How?”

“She thinks I might have a contact.” Alix’s eyes didn’t meet mine. “Apparently, Margaret thinks I might know someone who’d be willing to hurt Danny Chesterfield.”

Despite my effort to remain calm, I gasped and brought my hand to my mouth.

“She didn’t want him killed or anything,” Alix rushed to explain. “She wants him hurt. Badly. At least one broken bone—his right arm’s what she suggested, but if the leg was easier, she’d settle for that.”

I hardly knew how to respond other than with absolute horror. My sister was prepared to go to any lengths to see that Danny Chesterfield was punished for his crime.

“She said she was willing to pay, and she wanted to be sure that whoever I found let Danny know this was payback for what he’d done to Julia.”

Reaching for the back of a chair, I yanked it out and sat down. I felt as if my legs would no longer hold me upright. Never in all my life had I believed my sister capable of such an action.

“She wasn’t very pleased with me,” Alix said.

“You told her you wouldn’t do it, didn’t you?”

“Of course! What do you think I am?” She paused, giving me a wry smile. “I might’ve considered doing it as a favor three or four years ago, but I don’t do things like that anymore.”

I couldn’t speak. I simply couldn’t speak. I vacillated between pity and anger. I considered having Brad contact Matt, since they got along well and I figured my brother-in-law would know how to handle the situation. Or should I talk to Matt myself?

“She didn’t like what I had to say,” Alix continued. “I told her that hurting Danny, breaking his leg or anything else, wouldn’t fix the way she felt.”

No, Margaret wouldn’t like hearing that.

“I said Danny Chesterfield was a despicable human being who deserved to be in prison. I told her I thought it was only a matter of time before he ended up there. If not for what he did to Julia, then for some other crime. It’s a shame someone else has to suffer—I feel bad about that.”

Alix wasn’t the only one. Margaret had ranted about it for days until I thought I’d scream.

“Hard as it is, I suggested she try to forgive the creep,” Alix said. “It’s what I had to do with my mother. For a long time I was angry with her for not being the kind of mother I needed. Her addictions to drugs and alcohol made my childhood…difficult. I mean, I know she was a product of her own weakness and her own background. But her problems could weigh me down for the rest of my life if I let them.” Alix’s face brightened with the intensity of her feelings. “Instead of letting that happen, I followed Jordan’s advice and…forgave her.”

My admiration for Alix, already high, rose about a thousand percent. I wanted to tell her that, but the lump in my throat prevented me from speaking.

“About two years ago I wrote her a letter,” Alix told me. “Jordan helped me with it.”

“What did you say?”

Alix shrugged. “Not much really. Just that I supposed she did the best she knew how and that I forgave her.”

“How did she respond?” It wasn’t any of my business but I was understandably curious.

“She didn’t,” Alix told me with a tinge of sadness. “I didn’t hear from her for about six months, and then she wrote and said that since I got religion I probably wouldn’t be any good to her.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment.

“Did you tell my sister any of this?” I asked.

“I tried, but…” Alix shook her head. “Margaret wasn’t in the mood to hear it.”

That figured. Once again I wondered what—if anything—I could do to help my sister. And once again, no real solution presented itself.

CHAPTER 32

Colette Blake

Christian had left for China a week ago. Colette could only speculate on his business there. During her years as his assistant, she’d booked any number of flights for him and knew he frequently traveled to Asian countries, particularly China. The thought of him dealing in human cargo turned her stomach. How long had it been going on, she wondered. And the question she asked over and over: Why? Still, she had difficulty equating the man she knew and loved—yes, loved—the man whose child she carried, with a man who’d do something so criminal. And beyond criminal, so cynically cruel.

Regardless, and in the face of her dangerous knowledge, Colette waited patiently for word from him. He hadn’t said exactly how long he’d be away. His trips lasted anywhere from one to three weeks, and more often than not, he experienced delays, but she expected to hear from him soon. Now that she’d made the decision to tell him about the baby, the news burned within her.

For the first time since she’d left Dempsey Imports, she felt a real sense of hope. The thing about hope, she discovered, was that it was like a powerful painkilling drug. Despite her fears, her mood remained optimistic. Even the weather cooperated, and the days were bright with sunshine.

Fridays were usually busy at Susannah’s Garden and this particular Friday was no exception. All morning, Colette was occupied with walk-ins, who were quickly becoming twenty to thirty percent of their business.

One of the local high schools was having their Junior/Senior prom that evening. Susannah and Chrissie spent the afternoon assembling boutonnieres and corsages as fast as they could in their crowded workspace.

Colette admired the way Susannah constantly came up with inventive ideas to make her little shop known in the area. If that meant offering a large floral arrangement as a raff le gift to one of the service organizations, then she did so willingly. She visited hospitals, wedding planners and funeral homes and outlined her services. Business continued to flow into the shop at an increasing rate. Some days the two of them could barely keep up; more and more often, Chrissie was coming by after her classes to help out.

Colette appreciated her assistance and calm, cheerful demeanor, but what impressed her most was Chrissie’s devotion to her grandma Leary, who lived in eastern Washington. Every two or three days Chrissie made a point of phoning her grandmother. Colette knew Susannah was close to her mother, too, and called her often. Fortunately, she had a good friend who kept in touch with Mrs. Leary and reported back.

The phone rang and Susannah answered it. She glanced at Colette, and thinking it might be a private conversation, Colette walked outside to check on the flowers in their buckets. She rearranged them, adding irises to the lilies to create an appealing array of colors.

After several minutes she returned to find that Susannah was still on the phone. She removed it from her ear, held her hand over the receiver and said, “Actually, this is for you.”

“Me?” Colette’s first thought was that it must be Christian, although she recognized that this was more hope than expectation. She couldn’t understand why Susannah would be talking for so long with someone who’d asked to speak to her. She hurried over and Susannah passed her the phone.

“This is Colette Blake,” she said in her most professional voice.

She heard a sob and then in crisp tones, “Colette, it’s Elizabeth Sasser.”

Alarm filled her instantly. “Elizabeth, is everything all right?”

“No, my dear, I’m afraid…it isn’t.” Her words faltered, and Colette could tell that Christian’s aunt was struggling to keep her composure.

“Is it…Christian?”

“I’m afraid I have bad news.” The old woman paused, then exhaled sharply. “When it’s convenient, would you mind stopping by the house?”

“Of course.” Colette’s pulse hammered violently. Bad news? Something had happened to Christian; that was the only thing it could be. All her fears came together at once and for a moment she felt as if she might throw up.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered. Almost in afterthought, she added, “Come as soon as you can.”

The line was disconnected before Colette could question her further.

Slowly she replaced the receiver. Susannah came to stand next to her and slipped an arm around Colette’s shoulders.

“Did she tell you what happened?” Colette asked her, needing to know, no matter how bad the news.

“No. She couldn’t. She was so upset, the housekeeper had to talk to me. But she was pretty distraught, too, and I had trouble understanding her.”

“Doris,” Colette said. “Her name is Doris.”

Susannah nodded. “Doris explained that Elizabeth received a phone call about half an hour ago and that she’d nearly collapsed.”

“He’s dead.” It was the same feeling Colette had experienced when she’d followed the aid car to the hospital after Derek’s fall.

“Colette, there’s no need to believe the worst.” Susannah gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want Chrissie or me to drive you?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.” She was surprisingly calm, but then she had been after Derek’s accident, too. The initial rush of panic had subsided and in its place had come this numb sensation, this chilling certainty. “I don’t mean to leave you in the lurch,” she told her employer.

“Go, don’t worry. Chrissie will be here in an hour and in the meantime I have everything under control.”

Not feeling any need to rush, Colette washed her hands, collected her purse, then walked to the alley where she kept her car. The numbness started to fade, and she felt a tightness instead, gripping her chest. If she’d been older, she might have feared that this pain signaled the beginning of a heart attack. But she knew it wasn’t that. This was what loss felt like.

The identical sensation had accompanied the E.R. physician’s words when he’d led Colette into a private office and told her there was nothing left to do but wait for death. Derek would never recover from his coma, he’d said. Nothing could change that outcome.

Even in the heavy Friday-afternoon traffic, Colette didn’t lose her composure. Because Christian would still be dead, whether she got to Elizabeth’s house in ten minutes or in forty.

When she arrived at the old woman’s picturesque home, she carefully parked the car. In that instant her grief felt too much to bear and she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and silently prayed for strength.

She loved Christian. If she’d ever doubted it before, there was no question now. He would never know. Never learn the truth. Never hold their baby. She’d have to accept that the same way she’d accepted everything else in the last two years.

Drawing a deep breath, Colette climbed out of her car. She’d barely rung the bell when Doris flung open the massive door, and with red-rimmed eyes, led Colette into the library.