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“I’m on the peninsula, actually, so no need to go into town or bother anyone else. I rented the parsonage of the old church on East Sherman Street.”
“I didn’t know there was a church here. I thought it was just Richmond House and your and Oren’s old houses.”
“It’s an old church. No one attends services here anymore. Anna now lives in the house we once shared, and, as I said, with all manner of nefarious things going on at Richmond House, I needed a place to stay and didn’t feel right crowding in on her. The Archdiocese was more than happy to rent me the parsonage.”
“Okay,” I agreed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had stolen over me. It was still relatively early in the evening, but something about tonight made me want to go upstairs and get back in bed with my lover. On the other hand, I was sick to death of the slow trickle of information that had only recently yielded my father’s identity. Oren. I needed to speak with him—maybe once thinking his name didn’t hurt so badly. But Oren only confessed after Jace cornered him, confronted him. And I needed to confront Eugenia.
Just a few hours ago, I’d sworn I didn’t want or need any more information, but whatever had shut down inside me then was back up and running now. I wanted to know once and for all whether my suspicions were correct, whether she’d been diverting the money from my grandfather’s estate. And why Anna wanted a house that was just plain falling down at this point. Where did we go from here?
“Give me directions to you.”
“It’s easy, dear. You’ll be here in a matter of minutes.”
* * *
I’d hastily pennedEugenia’s dictated directions on a yellow legal pad I’d found in the kitchen, and the sheet I’d torn off rested on the passenger seat of my car. I only wish I’d spent more time exploring the peninsula—I’d never driven on any road here except the one leading down into town. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining anymore, but it was dark, and my headlights did little to cut the fog.
I guided the Bronco slowly down a gravel road before coming to a three-way intersection. The road I’d been on for the past ten minutes bisected another that ran along the cliff face—left, or right? Left, or right? I used my phone flashlight to check my notes. Left. Just a few more minutes. I crawled along the road hugging the cliff until I saw a light in the distance. An outdoor floodlight, I saw as I approached, blocked at intervals by a series of short, flat pillars rising out of the ground. Next to one such pillar stood Eugenia, wearing jeans, gasp, and a dark sweater.
I parked the Bronco off the road and got out, making my way toward her. I’d never seen Eugenia dressed so casually, so it took me a moment to notice the muddy garden clogs on her feet and the fact that the pillars weren’t pillars at all. They were headstones.
“Darling, you made it. I’m so glad.”
“Eugenia…what is this?”
“This? Oh, it’s a cemetery, darling, obviously. It’s part of the churchyard. All the old churches have cemeteries.”
I was familiar with the concept of a church-cemetery combo. I did work in the Deep South for three years, where there were churches—and cemeteries—on practically every street corner. But what was she doing waiting for me out here?
“Do you want to talk inside?” I asked, hugging myself against the dampness. I should have worn a warmer coat. Story of my life.
“No, dear, I think talking out here will do just fine.”
She smiled at me as if waiting for me to begin. I took a deep breath.
“Eugenia, first, I have a confession to make. I’m…not proud of what I’m about to tell you. It’s just, you haven’t been around much, and I needed to make sure you were okay…” That sounded lame even to my ears. “You know what? Disregard that. I’m not going to insult you by lying. I wanted to know what was going on. In the house. With the house. And your being gone gave me the perfect opportunity to—”
“To break into my locked bedroom and rifle around in my things?” she asked, smiling her wolfish smile. “Yes, I saw that you had.”
“So…you’re not angry?”
“The question is,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard me, “did you find the Den of Depravity? Or maybe you found your grandfather’s Hidden Heaven? The special place where only his angels were allowed to sleep.”
My stomach turned, and I stared guiltily back at her.
“Ah. Both then. Well, that makes things easier. No more secrets, no more lies, right?”
“I didn’t break in,” I said, belittling the point. “I didn’t break anything. And anyway, all I wanted to say was that I know you’ve been diverting money from my grandfather’s estate—money that should be going toward Richmond House—but I don’t care.”
Eugenia’s laugh was shrill.
“Darling, I’m honestly disappointed that that’s all you’ve managed to figure out.”
“I’ve figured out other things. Well, at least things have come to light. I know Oren is my father.”
“Well, thank God. Listening to all that drama was getting tiresome.”
“You knew all along?”
