AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe Madelyn saw that, because her mouth relaxed, though a touch of sadness filled her eyes. “All right,” she said, then repeated it more firmly. “All right. I believe you. Go for it, young man, but I think you should know that Jaclyn has real trust issues.”
A jolt of anger made Eric’s spine stiffen, because too often, in his world, “trust issues” were directly related to physical abuse. “Her ex?” he growled.
Madelyn sighed and shook her head. “Nothing so dramatic, just a lifetime of dealing with her father. Maybe she’d have been better off if I’d divorced Jacky when Jaclyn was still a baby. I knew even then that, well, let’s just say that Jacky Wilde is a walking emotional disaster. Not to himself—Jacky always looks after number one—but to everyone around him. All her life Jaclyn has been collecting broken promises from her father, and that’s something that’s hard for a child to get past even when she’s all grown up. Then her own marriage fell apart so fast … She’s afraid to trust herself, much less a man.”
And in Jaclyn’s eyes, he hadn’t exactly proven that he trusted her, or that she could trust him. In fact, the opposite was true, not that he could have handled the situation any differently. Still, he felt as if he was on more solid ground now, because he not only understood exactly what he was up against, but maybe now he had someone on his side. He probably wouldn’t have stood a chance if Madelyn disapproved of him, but with her understanding and support he at least wasn’t going under for the third time.
As the photographer was finishing up, Jaclyn saw Eric talking to her mother and a stupid but powerful rush of panic made the blood roar in her ears. The only thing they could possibly have to talk about was her, which made her feel as exposed and vulnerable as if someone had walked in on her in the shower. Lovely. She’d feel a lot better about it if her mother continued to scowl at him, but even as she watched, Madelyn’s expression changed, softened.
Great.
Then the doors were opened, and the guests began to file into the room. Instead of a sit-down dinner there was an impressive hot buffet, and round tables, each seating eight, were arranged around the glossy hardwood dance floor. The bride had suggested
the more informal setup so her friends and family would be able to mingle, visit, have a good time. There was informal, and then there was so casual shoes weren’t required. She couldn’t help contrasting this reception with the one the day before, and an unwilling smile tugged at her lips. She had regaled the others with tales from Hee Haw Hell, as Bishop had named it, but she’d also had to admit that in the end she’d had a blast.
For a while Jaclyn was too busy with her duties to think about Eric Wilder … almost. Every time she turned around he was there, directly in her wake or just a few steps away, watching. His alertness worried her, made her wonder if he knew something he hadn’t told her. He had a history of not telling her stuff.
She took a quick survey of the crowded room and had an unpleasant surprise. Movers and shakers stuck together, so she should have expected that she’d recognize two of Carrie’s bridesmaids. If they were here—and that struck her as kind of cold, considering tonight was the funeral home visitation for Carrie—then how many other people in the room had been connected to Carrie? That gave her a chill, because likely Carrie’s killer had been someone connected to her.
Suddenly she felt hideously exposed again, but this time in a very real, imminent-danger kind of way. Her head kept swiveling as she looked from face to face, until finally she thought she had to take a break or scream from the tension. The reception was proceeding well, people still filing in and offering congratulations to the bridal couple, and until it was time for the cake to be cut her duties were on hold. She grabbed a cup of punch, nonalcoholic, took a long sip, and retreated to a quiet nook where at least she didn’t feel as if a gun was pointed at her back. All she wanted was a minute of solitude to get her nerves under control—
As if Eric would allow her that luxury.
He walked up, leaned against the wall beside her. “We need to talk,” he said in a lowered voice.
How many times had he said some variation of that?
“Something’s going on, isn’t it?” she asked nervously.
“Yes.”
She sucked in a quick, shallow breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”
“Just watch everyone as they come through the reception line. That’s all. Tell me if anyone rings a bell.”
She went pale. So she was right. The killer was here—at least, the person Eric thought was the killer was here, and what he thought was good enough for her to be scared.
“I can’t stand here forever,” she muttered some time later. “I really, really need to visit the ladies’ room.”
“Okay,” he said, his expression unreadable, but Jaclyn thought he was disappointed. He’d hoped she would recognize someone—the gray-haired man, obviously—but the only people she’d definitely recognized were the two bridesmaids. She had carefully examined everyone, not just the gray-haired men, but no one had seemed familiar to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she’d been a better witness. More than anyone, she wished she’d been a better witness! “I know I’m no help.”
“I wish you could make an identification,” he said, “but I definitely don’t want you to say you recognize someone when you don’t. That would hurt the case, not help it. And sometimes, eliminating people is as important as including them, because that helps you know who’s left.”
That made sense. She didn’t think he meant it, but it made sense.
She wound her way through the knots of wedding guests as she made her way out of the main ballroom. Long before she reached the doorway, he was following in her footsteps, watching.
And he saw her walk past Senator and Mrs. Dennison. Not close by them, but close enough that Mrs. Dennison saw her, recognized her as one of the event planners. It figured that she would notice things like that. The senator’s back was turned; he didn’t see Jaclyn and she didn’t see him. Eric held his breath, hoping Jaclyn made it past without being spotted, because while he’d wanted her to see the senator he sure as hell didn’t want the senator to see her, especially this close to him.
Mrs. Dennison gave a quick smile, reached out, and caught Jaclyn’s arm, stopping her. Eric picked up his pace, all but shoving his way through the crowd. Senator Dennison continued talking to some other man and for a second Eric thought Jaclyn would make it through, but then Mrs. Dennison reached for her husband’s arm, getting his attention so she could introduce the two.
Eric wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he was close enough to see the senator lose every bit of color in his face. And Jaclyn was smiling, her calm, gracious manner never revealing that she was dying to pee. She even chatted for a few minutes, before excusing herself and continuing on toward the bathroom.
Senator Dennison stared after her with an expression gone as cold and blank as a statue’s.
Since Friday night’s failed attempt, it had been impossible to find another opportunity. Jaclyn hadn’t been back to her town house; she was staying somewhere else, and locating her during the day so she could be followed hadn’t worked out. No one seemed to know what event she was working; either that, or no one was saying. But now here she was, and following her from here would be easy.
