LITMIR.BIZ

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      Cover

      

      Other Stonechild and Rouleau mysteries:

      Cold Mourning

      Butterfly Kills

      Tumbled Graves

      Shallow End

      

      epigraph

      For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.

      — William Shakespeare, Hamlet

      And the truth cannot be hid;

      Somebody chose their pain,

      What needn’t have happened did.

      — W.H. Auden, “A Walk After Dark”

      dedication

      For my girls, Lisa and Julia

      chapter one

      When David McKenna opened his eyes, the morning light had weakened and filled the hospital room like clear, cold tea. He turned his head to see Evelyn still in place, her arm resting on the side of the bed and her head bowed. He wanted to tell her to go home but knew she wouldn’t. She stirred as if sensing that he was awake, and a moment later, he felt her hand work its way into his. They hadn’t been this intimate for years and her touch left him with mixed feelings. Mostly regretful ones.

      “What time is it?” he asked. He licked his lips, chapped from his long sleep in the dry room.

      She glanced at her watch. “Nearly four o’clock. Do you feel better? You slept a long while.”

      “Yes,” he lied. “You should go home and get some rest too.”

      “I will. The kids are on their way.”

      “No need for that.” He knew there was but wanted more time. More time to work in his garden, read books he’d always meant to, feel the wind off Lake Ontario on his face.

      More time.

      Evelyn must have buzzed for the nurse because she entered the room almost immediately and the pain that coursed through him was exchanged for the floaty oblivion he’d grown to crave. He’d never thought he’d end his days an addict, but terminal disease had a way of turning a lifetime of decisions on its head.

      He dozed and half woke. Someone had straightened his pillows. Moistened his lips with crushed ice.

      Evelyn’s chair was empty and he wondered if she’d even been there. The dreams were real and reality a dream.

      He drifted off again to the smell of juniper and rotting leaves. He was a boy running through his grandfather’s field.

      Jumping. Leaping. Free.

      Sun cut through the hazy air, reflecting off the water flowing down the bank. He stopped and stared as a cloud crossed in front of the sun and darkened the marshes. The girl lay on her side as if sleeping, her long dark hair tumbling down her back, trailing into the mud. He stepped closer, needing to look even as the cold and horror filled him. He was no longer a boy, but a man with a man’s grief.

      He struggled to remain upright. Fought to keep from screaming.

      “Wake up, Zoe. Wake up.” He narrowly missed tripping on a tree root in his haste to reach her.

      As he raised his face to the river, now transformed into boggy reeds, she pushed herself up onto her side and turned to look at him over the blood-streaked shoulder of her ruined sweater.

      “You found me at last,” she said. Her smile was filled with the sweetness that he remembered. Her eyes filled with tears. One escaped and dribbled down her cheek and came to rest on her chin. She sat up in a sudden motion and reached out both arms toward him. Blood dripped from her neck where it had been cut with a hunting knife. Her smile brought back the sunshine.

      “I’ve been so scared of the dark, but now you’re here to keep me company while we wait for the others.”

      He took her hand, so small and cold in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of this. For not being able to stop it.”

      “I don’t blame you,” she said. She sat up straighter, a look of concentration on her face, her brow furrowed into crooked lines. She turned her face toward the reeds and tall grass with the woods a line of darkness behind and glanced back at him. A mist had stolen in and her face was fading into the fog. He could hear her voice high above the sound of rushing water. “Do you hear that, David? Do you hear them?” The panic in her voice was mirrored in her face. “The wolves are getting closer. We need to get out of here. We’re nearly out of time.”

      chapter two

      “You have one fine set of knockers, you know that, right?”

      Lauren propped herself up on the hotel pillows and knocked a cigarette out of the pack on the bedside table. She blew a perfect smoke ring while Salim’s tongue worked its way from one breast to the other and licked its way down her stomach. Her hand found the top of his head and gently pulled until he stopped and looked up at her. His black eyes reminded her of a cat’s, sly and otherworldly.

      “What?” he asked.

      She kept the regret she was feeling out of her voice. “I don’t have time for round two. I’m leaving the city for a while.”

      “Where’re you going?” His finger circled her belly button.

      “My father’s not well and I promised my mother I’d … God, don’t stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

      He grinned. “Did your schedule open up all of a sudden?”

      “Yes. I mean no.” She pushed herself off the pillows and lowered her face to kiss the top of his head. She was going to have to be the one to show some self-restraint. She said with feigned conviction, “I have to go and you have to get back to the office, Salim.”

      He rolled onto his back and crossed his hands over his chest. The loud release of air through his nose expressed his frustration, but she ignored him. She stood and stretched her arms over her head, breasts and belly pushed forward, all the while knowing that he was looking at her body and liking the feeling. She dodged his hand as he reached over to pull her back on top of him.

      “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, his voice low and thick with lust.

      “Don’t sound so surprised.”

      He plumped up the pillows she’d vacated and flopped against the headboard. “When you hired me, I had no idea this is what you had in mind, but I’m not complaining.”

      “No, I don’t suppose you are.” She crossed to the desk where she’d laid her clothes across the back of the chair. “I need to have the kitchen drawings completed before Monday morning.”

      “You’re going to owe me one if I have to work on my day off. I have an idea how you can pay me.”

      “Whatever it takes.” She smiled. “You’ve almost nailed the design but she’s not happy with the pos­ition of the island and the flow into the dining area.”

      “I’ll see what I can do. Will you be back early in the week?”

      She hesitated on her way to stepping into her panties. “I have no idea how long I’ll be away. Let me know when you’ve saved the drawings and I’ll access them from my laptop. If worse comes to worst, you can take the meeting with the client and I’ll call in.”

      “Hurry back.”

      “Believe me, I wouldn’t even be going if I had a choice.”

      Three hours later,

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