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Ravinia’s gaze skated over Savannah from head to toe, and she said, “I saw them bring you in last night. You had your baby.”
“Yes.”
“But the man you were with.” Ravinia’s gaze flicked to Lang and then away. “He wasn’t the man you were with.”
“I’m Detective Stone,” Lang said. “I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”
“I was with the baby’s father last night, Hale St. Cloud,” Savvy told her.
Ravinia reacted as if stung.
“You know Hale?” Lang asked.
“No . . . no . . .” Ravinia looked away for a moment, and Savvy could almost see the calculations going on inside her head.
Lang said to Savannah, “Fill me in later.”
“Will do,” she answered. To Ravinia, Savvy asked, “Can you tell me which room Catherine’s in?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll take you there,” she answered woodenly.
CHAPTER 22
Ravinia led Detective Dunbar into her aunt’s room and locked eyes with Ophelia, who was sitting in a chair, her hands folded on her lap. Ophelia had been looking out the window to the west, but as soon as she turned her head and saw them, she straightened into a stiff line. Good. Ravinia was pissed at her older sister. Earl had dropped her off after mumbling something about being unable to get her to come any earlier, and then he’d picked up Rand and left the hospital. Aunt Catherine had fallen into a deep sleep, and Ophelia had held her finger to her lips, so Ravinia had been unable to talk to her. Chafing at the unfairness of it all, she’d headed for the bathroom first, where she’d finger-combed her hair and gazed into her darkly clouded eyes in the mirror and wondered how, if ever, she was going to get any serious information beyond what Catherine had already told her.
It felt important that she know everything. Imperative. Who was out on Echo Island? The man from the bones
?
She’d wondered if she should find a way home and question Cassandra, or Maggie or whatever the hell she wanted to be called. Maybe she had something more than her dire woo-woo predictions. Like some actual facts. Sure, Aunt Catherine clearly knew more, but the way she gave out little tidbits of information, then just clammed up, set Ravinia’s teeth on edge.
Maybe it was time to leave, she’d determined as she headed down to the cafeteria. It looked like Aunt Catherine was going to be okay, and Ophelia was in charge—and Isadora, of course, was back at the house—so the urgency that had driven Ravinia since the night before had dissipated. What the hell. She didn’t belong with them, all shut up in that drafty old monster of a house. It was probably time to get the hell out of Deception Bay and find out what her life was really supposed to be about.
And then she’d run into Detective Dunbar and the man, that other detective. Stone. So, here they were.
Ophelia rose and held up her hand to both Ravinia and Detective Dunbar, silently asking them to back right out the door. The detective nodded and complied, and Ravinia, feeling rebellious, opened her mouth to protest. She wanted to scream, “I was here first!” but it didn’t really matter, anyway, so she followed Detective Dunbar into the hall, and Ophelia followed and closed the door to Catherine’s room behind her.
“I’m Savannah Dunbar,” the detective said, introducing herself. “I heard Catherine was in an accident.”
“I told her,” Ravinia put in.
Ophelia said, “She’s sleeping. I just didn’t want to disturb her. I’m Ophelia Beeman.” She held out her hand, which the detective shook.
“Catherine went to the police and asked for help,” Ravinia said.
“Help?” Ophelia repeated.
“Catherine asked me to come to Siren Song last week,” Detective Dunbar explained.
And you weren’t around, Ravinia thought smugly, meeting Ophelia’s surprised eyes.
“Oh.” Ophelia didn’t seem to know what to say.
Ravinia took the bull by the horns. “So, maybe the detective should talk to Aunt Catherine. I mean, if something bad happened to her out there. If she didn’t just slip or something . . .”
Ophelia gave Ravinia a cold look, one of those “We’ll talk about this later” glares.
“Fine,” said Ravinia’s silent glare back. “Bring it on.”
