Night Moves : Dream Man/After the Night Read online

  He released her, sighing with disappointment. The reason for his disappointment twitched in his lap. “What?”

  “It’s Mama.”

  He sighed again. “You don’t think she’ll like the idea of you marryin’ me?”

  “She won’t like the idea of me marrying anyone,” Monica said bluntly. “You don’t know—she’ll be so upset.”

  He looked startled. “For God’s sake, why?”

  Monica bit her lip, uncomfortable with airing their family laundry. “Because that means I’d be sleeping with you.”

  “Of course you’d—oh.” Now he looked uncomfortable. He was probably recalling all the old gossip about the arrangement Mama and Daddy had had. “I guess she doesn’t like things like that.”

  “She hates the very idea. And with Faith Devlin back in town, she’s already upset.” Cautiously Monica nudged him in the direction she wanted him to go. “If Faith left again, it would put Mama in a lot better mood, but I don’t know how to manage that. Gray is trying to make her leave, but he says there isn’t much he can do, not like before.”

  To her surprise, Michael went still, and a grim look darkened his face.

  “I know how he feels. I wouldn’t want to do anything to put that girl out of another home, either.”

  Monica drew back, uneasy that he had responded directly opposite to the way she had wanted. She had expected him to understand immediately. “She’s a Devlin! I can’t look at her without feeling sick—”

  “She didn’t do anything,” Michael pointed out in a reasonable tone that set her teeth on edge. “We had trouble with all the other Devlins, but not her.”

  “She looks just like her mother. Mama nearly went to pieces when she found out one of the Devlins had come back here to live.”

  “There’s no law that says she can’t live where she wants.”

  Because he seemed to have trouble grasping the point, Monica decided to be blunt. “You could do something about it, though, couldn’t you? Gray isn’t doing much, but you could think of some way to make her leave.”

  But Michael shook his head, and disappointment knotted her stomach. “I was there the last time,” he said soberly, a distant and somber look darkening the blue of his eyes. “When we ran them out of that shack they lived in. For the rest of the Devlins, I didn’t care, it was nice to get rid of them, but Faith and that little boy—well, they suffered. I’ll never forget the look that was on her face, and I bet Gray still thinks about it, too. That’s probably why he’s taking it easy on her this time. God knows I couldn’t do something like that to her again.”

  “But if Mama—” Monica stopped herself. He wasn’t going to do it. He couldn’t understand, not really, because he didn’t live with Mama, didn’t know how that cold disapproval could slice to the bone. She controlled her dismay, and smiled at him. “Never mind. I’ll handle Mama, somehow.”

  But how? She had never yet managed to handle Mama, to shrug off those hurtful things she said the way Gray did. Gray loved Mama, she knew, but he ignored her a lot of the time. Monica still felt like an anxious little girl, trying so desperately to live up to the standards Mama set, and always falling short.

  She would have to do it. She couldn’t lose Michael. She would tell Alex she couldn’t meet him anymore, and somehow—somehow—she would get rid of Faith Devlin, and make Mama so happy, she wouldn’t mind if Monica got married.

  Eleven

  Faith hung up the phone, a puzzled frown on her face. That was the sixth time she’d called Mr. Pleasant and not gotten an answer. He didn’t have a secretary; Mrs. Pleasant had filled that role, and he hadn’t had the heart to replace her when she had died. Mr. Pleasant had checked out of the motel; rather, the key had been left on the nightstand in the room, and his things were gone. The room had been paid for in advance, so there was nothing unusual in that. She had done it herself, more than once.

  What was unusual was that he hadn’t called her, and he’d said that he would. She couldn’t believe he had forgotten. He would have called if something wasn’t wrong. Given the state of his health, she was afraid he was in a hospital somewhere and was too ill to call. He could even be dying, and she wouldn’t know about it. The thought of dying alone made her chest hurt. Someone should at least be there to hold his hand, as she had held Scottie’s.

  Other than being worried about him, she didn’t know what, if anything, he had found or whom he had questioned. She would have to continue on her own, without the benefit of whatever answers he had gotten.

  She didn’t have a clear idea of how to go about it, what clues to look for, even what questions to ask—assuming anyone would talk to her. The only ones who were likely to answer her questions would be any newcomers, and they wouldn’t be in a position to know anything. The old-timers would know, but they would heed Gray’s edict against having anything to do with her.

  A thought came to her, and she grinned with anticipation. There was one person, at least, who would talk to her—unwillingly, but he would talk.

  She dragged a brush through her hair and twisted the heavy mass into a top-knot, securing it with a few pins and leaving tendrils loose around her face and at the nape of her neck. That was the limit of her grooming; a few minutes after having made up her mind, she was on her way to Prescott, to Morgan’s Grocery.

  As she had expected, Mrs. Morgan spotted her the moment she entered the door. Faith ignored her and wandered toward the dairy section, which was at the back of the store, safely away from Mrs. Morgan’s sharp ears. It wasn’t long before Ed came hot-footing it down the aisles, his beefy face florid with both indignation and exertion. “Maybe you didn’t understand too good,” he said, huffing to a stop in front of her. “Get on out of my store. You can’t buy your groceries here.”

  Faith stood her ground and gave him a cool smile. “I didn’t come here to buy anything. I want to ask you a few questions.”

  “If you don’t leave, I’m goin’ to call the sheriff,” he said, but an uneasy expression crossed his face.

  His mention of the sheriff made her stomach clench, probably the reaction he had hoped to get. Her spine stiffened, and she forced herself to ignore the threat. “If you answer my questions,” she said quietly, “I’ll be gone in a few minutes. If you don’t, your wife may learn more than you want her to know.” When it came to threats, she could make a few of her own.

  He paled, and cast an anxious look toward the front of the store. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fine. My questions don’t concern my mother. I want to know about Guy Rouillard.”

  He blinked, surprised by the turn. “About Guy?” he repeated.

  “Who else was he seeing that summer?” she asked. “I know my mother wasn’t the only one. Do you remember any of the gossip?”

  “Why do you want to know about all that? It don’t matter who else he was seeing, because it was Renee he ran away with, not any of the others.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I figure you have about two minutes before your wife comes back here to see what’s going on.”

  He glared at her, but said reluctantly, “I heard he was seeing Andrea Wallice, Alex Chelette’s secretary. Alex was Guy’s best friend. Don’t know that it’s true, though, because she didn’t seem tore up when Guy left. There was a waitress out at Jimmy Jo’s, I can’t remember her name, but Guy saw her a few times. She’s not there anymore. Heard tell he had a thing going with Yolanda Foster, too. Guy got around. I can’t remember who all he was messin’ around with, or when, exactly.”

  Yolanda Foster. That must be the ex-mayor’s wife. Their son, Lane, had been one of that group of boys who hung around Jodie when they wanted a good time, but wouldn’t speak to her if they met her in public.

  “Was that common knowledge?” she asked. “Were there any jealous husbands around?”

  He shrugged, and glanced again toward the front of the store. “Maybe the mayor knew, but Guy donated a lot of money to his campaigns, so I dou