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“Better let me be the judge of that,” the officer replied. “I really think we ought to go on over to the hospital, Mrs. Jennings.”
Christy wrapped her arms even more tightly around her daughter. “No, can’t you see that Twink’s fine? Thank you for your help, but you’re no longer needed here.”
Obviously disappointed, the officer waited until Christy Joy had carried Twink inside before he spoke. “She’s in denial, but I’ve got your name, Captain, and you can count on my checking out your story at the Scarlet Letter.”
“The time I paid for the book is stamped on the receipt,” Jeremy exclaimed, “and it wasn’t more than fifteen minutes ago.”
“Doesn’t take all that long to molest a child,” the officer replied, but after regarding Jeremy with a final dark glance, he closed his notebook, got into his cruiser and drove away.
Darcy still felt sick, and Jeremy didn’t look much better. “No one’s accused you of anything,” she assured him.
Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets. “Christ, he didn’t have to. Didn’t you see the way Christy Joy looked at me?”
Indeed she had, and the unspoken accusation had stung her as well. “She was frantic about Twink.”
“Sure, that’s only natural, but suspicion’s an ugly thing and damn hard to disprove.”
Darcy again reached for his arm, but when he flinched she promptly withdrew. “We’re all upset, but please don’t imagine it’s worse than it is.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I’ll not blame Twink. She’s just a little kid, but whatever chance I may have had with Christy Joy is gone, and you know it.”
Darcy hoped Christy Joy would see things differently tomorrow, but she was sadly afraid he was right. “I’ll walk you back to your boat.”
“Better watch out,” he warned as he turned away. “No telling what people might be saying about me tomorrow.”
Darcy fell in step beside him. She’d been so relieved to find Twink riding on his shoulders, but his dark prediction only served to reinforce her own guilt. “Look, I’m the one who should feel bad here. I didn’t even notice Twink had disappeared until Christy Joy came looking for her.”
“Somehow that isn’t much consolation,” Jeremy murmured under his breath.
The cool breeze off the bay chilled Darcy clear through, but when they reached his boat, she accepted his offer of a cup of coffee, then remained on board the Great
Escape until she’d finished the last drop. She was ashamed of herself for asking to use the head so she could check out his bunk, but she was enormously relieved when the only evidence the blanket bore was a faint indentation left by a little girl’s shoes.
Once home, Darcy slid down on the floor with her back braced against the sofa and hugged her knees. When she’d been a freshman in high school, four of the most popular seniors had been killed after a football game when their speeding car had flipped over rounding a curve. It had been a senseless loss, but it had served to warn the whole student body of how quickly tragedy could overtake them.
More than a dozen years had passed since then, but forever seventeen, the dead were frozen in her memory. They would have been laughing, singing along with taped music, never suspecting they wouldn’t return home.
Twink had come home, though. The afternoon’s whole frantic ordeal had been resolved in under an hour, but Darcy was still too badly frightened to relax. Twink could have been kidnapped, hit by a car or, making her way along the boats unnoticed, simply fallen from a dock and drowned.
They’d all been extremely lucky that day. No, blessed, she thought, but there was no relief in Twink’s safe return. If only she’d watched Twink more carefully, then the whole terrifying episode would never have occurred. But had she never given Twink more than a bit of scattered conversation as she played in the nursery? she agonized.
Today’s near-tragedy had simply been waiting to happen. They’d all been preoccupied, or shamefully careless, and dear little Twink could have been lost forever. Christy Joy would never have spoken to her again, and their ties to a thriving business would have been severed by blame and guilt.
Too unhappy to rise, Darcy remained seated on the floor until she was cold and stiff, but once in bed, she was too tense to sleep. The sunlit dawn brought plenty of tourists into Defy the World, but not a glimmer of peace.
Griffin debated calling Darcy Saturday afternoon, but, thinking that she would be busy selling cacti to tourists, he decided against it. Instead, he left a brief message on her voice mail, then closed his mind to all forms of distraction and focused on the evening’s program.
Once it had begun, it was an effort to devote the necessary enthusiasm to the pieces he’d mastered years ago, but he strove to imbue them with fresh energy. When the concert was yet another triumph, he softly announced his intention to play the composition he’d debuted in Seattle. He heard a faint murmur roll through the crowd, but the audience quickly fell silent and listened in rapt awe until he’d gently tapped the final note.
He bowed through the deafening applause, but the person who mattered most was a half-continent away, and the concert hall’s wide stage was a lonely place indeed.
Steeling himself to endure the reception with forced charm, he was badly embarrassed to discover his publicity photograph had been enlarged to cover half a wall. It was a handsome portrait, but he wanted attention focused on his music, not his movie star good-looks. He accepted a glass of champagne and nodded as though he were actually listening to the effusive compliments of the patrons who surrounded him, but he frequently glanced at his watch and counted the hours until his flight left for home.
Then a tall, slender brunette approached him on stiletto heels. Clothed in an elegantly cut black satin gown, she possessed a runway model’s rolling gait. Her inky hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she reminded him of the line of guitar-strumming women in Robert Palmer’s videos. He smiled at that thought and watched her mistake his expression for an invitation to move close.
“Your music is magnificent,” she announced in the fluid French of a native.
“Merci,” Griffin responded, and their conversation continued in French, effectively excluding the others gathered close by.
