Angel in My Arms (41 page)

Then he glanced up, meeting her gaze with the darkest, saddest black eyes she had ever seen.

"Can you forgive me? Can we start again? I need you to love me, Celeste."

"I love you. I'll love you forever." She brushed her lips against his, their tears mingling. "And I will be your wife."

He kissed her back. "Good. Because my father told me to marry you."

"What?" She gave a little laugh as she wiped away his tears with her fingertips.

"I'll show you later. Now, how about a kiss for a weak, foolish man?"

"A kiss?" She glanced across the dark room to be sure Adam was sound
asleep, then back at him. She curled her arms around his neck and drew
close. "I can do even better than that…"

Two days later, Celeste, Fox, and Adam rode the train into Carrington.

"California," Adam bubbled as they walked off the train with the other passengers. "I can't believe we're going to California!"

"Now, it may take a few weeks," Fox warned. "We have to sell the mine and the house, though the house could go with a broker."

Adam hopped up and down as they passed through the aisle between the
train seats. "I know. But we can take Silver, right? Dogs can live in
vineyards."

"Best place for a dog is a vineyard."

Fox disembarked first, then reached up to give Celeste his hand. He winked at her.

She smiled. Fox and Adam were getting along wonderfully. Fox really
did love her, and everything really was going to be all right.

I love you,
Fox mouthed as she walked down the steps.

She brushed his cheek with her hand as she descended."And I__"

"Mr. MacPhearson?"

Celeste gazed over Fox's shoulder to see one of Sheriff Tate's burly
new deputies standing on the loading platform. She knew him because he
had often frequented Kate's Dance Hall. He had been one of Sally's best
customers before he turned lawman.

"Mr. MacPhearson." The deputy clamped his hand on Fox's shoulder. "You'll have to come with me."

Celeste grabbed Adam's hand protectively and led him off train. The dog followed. "What's this all about, Larry?"

"Sheriff Tate told me to meet every train 'til he came back." He glared. "If'n he came back."

Adam's eyes grew round with astonishment as the deputy took Fox's arm.

"Come on, now." Larry threw back his burly shoulders. "I don't want
no trouble, but I got no qualms about using this thing if I have to."
He tapped the ancient oak-handled pistol he wore on a belt around his
hips.

"Larry!" Celeste stepped up to the deputy. He smelled of chewing
tobacco and sour sweat."What are you talking about? What does Tate want
with Fox?"

"Questioning." He jerked his head. "Come on."

Larry tried to pull Fox after him and Fox shoved him.

"I'll come, but of my own accord," Fox said. "You don't have to
treat me like a criminal." He smoothed his sleeve. "Now let's get this
over with so I can go home."

Celeste held tightly to Adam's hand and followed the men into the
street, the baggage forgotten. "Larry! Tell me why Sheriff Tate wants
Fox. What's happened? Has there been another murder?"

"Murder?" Adam echoed, trying to watch his mother's mouth so he would know what was happening. "Who got killed?"

"Celeste, take Adam home," Fox told her. "I'll be home directly. I'm sure this is just more of Tate's nonsensical questioning."

She ignored him and hurried to catch up. "Larry! I want to know why
Fox is being brought in for questioning again. He told you everything
he knew about that girl he found in the alley."

"Yes, well, we found another," Larry shot over his shoulder.

Celeste felt her heart skip a beat. "Who?"

"The sheriff said I wasn't to tell anybody anything. Just bring Mr.
MacPhearson in, and that's what I aim to do." As they walked down the
sidewalk, Larry glanced over his shoulder at her again. "Mr.
MacPhearson's right. You best go home, Miss Kennedy."

"I'll do no such thing." She marched up the steps into the jail
house with Adam and the dog in tow. "Not until I know what the he—" She
glanced at Adam. "What's going on," she corrected herself.

"What's going on?" Tate met them in the front receiving area of the
jail house. "I'll tell you what's going on. Surprised you haven't
heard, Celeste."

She tightened her grip on Adam's hand, sensing she didn't want to hear what Tate would say next. "What? Heard what?"

Tate hooked his thumb into the waistband of his pants. "I'm sorry to
be the one to tell you this." He looked down at the floor, seemingly
genuinely upset. "I know how close you two were, but—"

Celeste placed her hand on an old table for support, gripping Adam's hand with the other.
No. No.

"But Silky Sally's dead. Killed. Murdered right in your front yard."

Celeste felt her heart plummet. She yanked her hand off the desk and
brought it to her mouth, afraid for a moment that she would be
physically ill.

"No," she whispered.

"Celeste." Fox tried to reach her, but Tate grabbed him by his arms
and pulled him back. It took the sheriff and his deputy to hold him.

"Keep your hands off that woman!" Tate threatened.

Celeste tried to take a deep breath and keep her head clear.

Her vision was blurry. She couldn't breathe.
Sally, sweet Sally was dead…

"Wh… when?" Celeste asked numbly. "She… she was supposed to leave with Noah. She… she was getting married."

"It was the night of her party. Poor girl never had a chance. He cut her down on your front walk."

Celeste glanced up through a veil of stinging tears. "You… you don't
think Fox had anything to do with Sally's death?" she managed.

"I'd be a fool not to. A man's got to look at the evidence. He walks nights in the town when all decent folk are in bed."

"That doesn't make a man a killer," Celeste retorted.

"And then there's that business with the dead woman in California. Bet you didn't know about that."

"He was questioned and released."

The sheriff pulled a coat from behind a desk. "And then there's this
that we found in a trash heap behind Simon's Boardinghouse."

Celeste stared at the coat. It was Fox's… and covered with blood.

She met Fox's gaze. She knew there was an explanation for this. She knew he didn't kill anyone.

With his eyes, he silently thanked her for trusting him.

"Fox didn't kill that girl, and he didn't kill poor Sally," Celeste
said, pushing through the blinding pain of her friend's murder. "You've
certainly not done a good job of investigating. He couldn't have. He
was with me in Denver!"

"That right?" Tate lifted a bushy eyebrow.

"The coat's mine," Fox admitted. "The night I found the girl, I
picked her up to see if she was still alive. I got the blood all over
my coat. I knew what you'd think if I came to the jail house looking
like that, so I just got rid of the coat." He ran his hand over the
back of his neck. "It was a stupid thing to do." He glanced at Celeste.
"I'm sorry. I was so worried about you, about us, that I didn't think I
could deal with any more complications."

Tate frowned. "Sounds like quite the story."

"Check with the train station," Celeste said. "Find out when he
boarded the train to Denver. You knew he left, right? Why didn't you
have the sense to find out
when?"

"I'm lookin' into that now." Tate dropped the bloody coat on a
chair. "But you best go home, Celeste. We won't need you to talk to Mr.
MacPhearson."

Fox interrupted her protest. "He's right," he said. "You need to take Adam home."

Celeste glanced down at her son. The boy was afraid. Everyone was
talking so fast that he probably couldn't follow the conversation,
which at this point was just as well. But she knew how disturbing it
was for him not to know what was happening. It was in a group of people
like this that he lost his confidence.

She smoothed Adam's hair and squeezed his hand. "You're right. I'll
take him home, but I'll find someone to stay with him, and I'll come
right back."

"Celeste, you stay with Adam," Fox instructed. "It will be easy
enough for Tate to check the written records of when I boarded the
train, now that he knows to do so." He glared at the sheriff. "So go
home and wait for me." He managed a bare smile. "Why don't you whip
your menfolk up something decent to eat."

She forced herself to smile, because she knew that Fox needed to
know she was all right. Of course she wasn't all right, but she was
strong. She could be strong for Adam and Fox… even for poor Sally.

"I'll be back," she said determinedly, and left the jail house.

At home, Celeste took the time to show Adam the house. He was
worried about Fox, but she brushed over the whole jail incident as a
mistake and told him Fox would be home tonight or tomorrow, once the
train records were examined. Though he questioned her about the murder,
she didn't give him any details; she didn't want to scare him.

After leading him through the house and showing him the room that
had been Fox's, which would be his until they left for California,
Celeste escorted boy and dog to the kitchen and fed Adam bread and
cheese. It was the only thing she had in the house to eat, but Adam
seemed content with the meager meal.

She lit the kitchen stove, and then sat beside Adam at the table. As
she held her warm teacup between her palms, finding comfort in the
heat, she wondered what was happening at the jail house. Had Fox been
able to reason with Tate? Had someone located the train ticket records
necessary to prove that Fox had boarded the midnight train?

As Celeste sipped her tea, she tried not to think about Sally. When
she'd walked up her front walk with Adam, she'd kept her gaze fixed on
the door ahead, careful not to look for bloodstains. Right now Celeste
couldn't allow herself to be distracted by that which she could not
change. First she had to get Fox safely home, and then she would grieve.

Celeste lowered her head to her hands, warm from the teacup, and
tried hard to think with her head, not her heart. What she needed most
now was a level mind and her dependable logic. Sally had been murdered
the night before she was to leave Carrington. Did that mean the
murderer knew she was leaving, and didn't want her to get away? And how
did the murderer know to look for her here, rather than at Kate's?
Sally had never slept in her house. The decision was made by Celeste
and Sally only hours before her murder. How could anyone have known
that's where she was going?

Unless…

Celeste lifted her head and stared blankly ahead, thinking. Adam sat
with his bread and cheese, preoccupied with feeding crumbs to the dog.

Unless… the murderer had been at Sally's party,
Celeste concluded.

She slapped her hand on the table. "It has to be someone who was
there," she said aloud, raising out of the chair."Someone who knew her…
knew her well."