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Before he could question her further, Hester gave him a little push. “Go on now. Good night.” She shut the door before he even had time to respond.
After she was alone in the house—Bob having gone off to the diner to visit with some of his friends—Hester sat at her bathroom vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. “Even you wouldn’t recognize me, Vicky,” she whispered, thinking of her long-dead friend, the party girl known as Victoria Lynn. “No one would recognize the former Esmerelda Devane now,” she added, seeing only glimpses of the wild girl she’d once been. The curve of her eyebrows was the same, and the color of her eyes.
She’d been quite a looker once upon a time. She and Vicky had caused a stir wherever they’d went.
But thirty years had taken its toll. Now she was no longer Hester Tomlinson, rebellious daughter of a preacher from Minnesota who’d run off as a teenager, wanting to live a little before she died. Nor was she Esmerelda Devane—who’d lived alot. And she wasn’t Miss Hester, the loving, supportive sister who had no life but to serve her brother and his parishioners.
When she left Derryville, she’d be Hester Devane. A wealthy widow. That was the perfect story, and she could play the part well.
“This is meant to be,” she told her reflection. She deserved this success, and wouldn’t regret the gamble she had taken, the risk she’d put herself in.
She thought about Victoria Lynn, a woman she hadn’t seen or thought of in nearly thirty years. A woman no one had seen in thirty years. And never would again.
Victoria Lynn had disappeared into the night, like mist swirling away beneath a streetlight. She’d been a victim of the life she’d gotten caught up in. Now, Vicky’s death would at least in some way be avenged.
Even if the vengeance was only through money.
“Money will do,” she murmured. “Lots of it.”
Lots of money would definitely do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“WHERE ARE WE going?” Caroline asked as they took off in his car toward the highway. They’d spent only a half hour at his house to pack their overnight bags. They’d packed light, since they wouldn’t be able to spend more than tonight and a bit of tomorrow morning out of town. The show was shooting a big party scene the next evening and they’d have to be back for it.
“Far away fromhere,” he replied.
“Oh, goody.”
Mick reached for her hand, twined his fingers in hers, and pulled them to his lips. He gave her a gentle kiss, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm also. Unable to resist the sweet flavor of her skin, he tasted her pulse point with his tongue, feeling the beating that sped up by the second under his touch.
“Reminder: Keep your eyes on the road. Being dead doesn’t lend itself to romance,” she reminded him softly.
He gave a disappointed sigh but let go of her hand and looked out the windshield. “I’m a good driver.”
She nodded toward the traffic on the highway. “But one of them might not be.”
“Fair enough.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Caro asked, “Where exactly are we going?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me something.”
“Okay. But you tell first.”
“Chicago,” Mick replied.
“Oooh, yummy!” She sounded like a kid being told she was going to Disney World. Mick couldn’t claim any surprise. Caroline was a big-city woman now; he didn’t imagine places like Derryville held much charm for her.
Shrugging off the moment’s unease about her excitement at leaving, he asked his question. “Okay, my turn. Who’s the killer?”
She gave a deep, exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, sure you can,” he said, his tone cajoling. “I can keep a secret.”
“A secret? You must be kidding. I don’t think there is such a thing in that hometown of yours.”
“It isn’tmine,” he reminded her, again feeling that brief sense of unease. Every time she mentioned his hometown, he was reminded that she’d be leaving soon. Much too soon.
