Beautifully Forgotten (38 page)

“Yes.”

They started to leave when Ember heard herself asking, “What happened to Nora?”

“Cancer. She died a few months later.”

After they left Lacy’s, Brandon and Ember went to lunch as promised before she sent him home in a cab. She stood outside the restaurant and reached for her phone. She couldn’t get in touch with Darcy, so she called Lucien. He answered on the first ring.

“Ember?”

“Lucien, hi.”

“I’ve got you on speaker. Trace is here.”

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?” Trace said.

“Yes. I’ve been doing some research and I found out the names of the two nurses who were with Darcy when she delivered. The one, Nora Jerkins, died, but I just came from Lacy’s house. She never saw the man, but she was paid out of a bar called Polly’s in Queens. Twenty grand to look the other way.”

Ember heard Lucien swearing softly and she couldn’t blame him. Her cussing wouldn’t be soft.

“Thanks, Ember. That’s the first break we’ve had.”

“I have one other piece of information.”

“Okay?”

“It was a boy. You have a son, Lucien.”

There was silence over the line for a minute before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was hoarse. “Thank you. I’ll call Darcy.”

“Okay, I’m going to stop by and see her.”

“She’d like that,” he replied softly.

“Ember?”

Darcy continued walking down the hall in Allegro toward her friend. Lucien had called and it was the first time they had spoken since their fight. She had been tempted to not answer, but when he told her about their son, her feelings took a radical turn. Her tears were fresh and her heart continued to pound in her chest. Darcy knew she had overreacted to Lucien’s protectiveness, but she was unaccustomed to people taking care of her. She’d been looking out for herself for so long that having someone else doing so was going to be an adjustment, but one she was willing to make. They had a son, they were a family, and that trumped everything else.

It took effort to move her thoughts from her son to the reason for Ember’s visit. “Lucien mentioned that there were two nurses with me when I delivered. One is deceased, but the other was paid twenty grand to turn the other way.” Darcy took the papers and guessed accurately, “And her contact was the other nurse.”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

She was angry that someone had so royally fucked up her world but she couldn’t help the touch of humor and gratitude she felt before she said, “You guys really are good.” She was still eyeballing the paper when she had her ah-ha moment. “Sister Margaret. Why the hell didn’t I think of her? That woman knew everything that went on in St. Agnes.”

Darcy’s eyes turned to Ember and she asked, “Any idea where she is now?”

“Yeah, actually, I do know.”

The bellowing coming from down the hall was almost deafening. “Who is making that sound?” Ember asked the orderly who was leading them to Sister Margaret’s room.

A mischievous grin curved his mouth. “The woman you’ve come to see.”

If Darcy hadn’t been all twisted up inside with nerves, she would have laughed at Ember’s expression, particularly when the orderly added, “She’s actually pretty calm today.”

They walked into her room. Darcy had never truly appreciated how old Sister Margaret was until she saw her looking every one of her ninety-plus years. Darcy had occasionally stopped by to visit the woman, but less so in the past few years—and those years had not been kind to her. She looked frail, as if at any minute her withered bones were going to disintegrate into dust.

“I want hot chocolate, damn it. I’m a dying woman and I want my hot chocolate now!”

And then her eyes turned to the doorway and she speared Darcy and Ember with a look that actually had the hair on Darcy’s arms standing on end.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know if you remember me—” Darcy started to say, but was cut off by the angry nun.

“Darcy MacBride. I didn’t ask who you were. I said, what do you want?”

“Still as pleasant as always, I see,” Darcy replied with such sarcasm that Ember nearly snapped her neck turning to look at her friend.

“You haven’t lost that sass about you. Good. Sit. I rarely get visitors.”

“It’s really one of the mysteries of life, you not getting visitors—being as charming as you are.”

At first Darcy wasn’t sure what the sound was that came from the old woman’s throat. Thinking that she might be choking, Darcy nearly offered to give her the Heimlich. And then she realized that rusty sound was her laugh.

Sister Margaret turned her focus on Ember. “And you?”

“I’m Ember.”

“I know. Trace’s wife.”

A look of disbelief moved across Ember’s expression before she asked, “How do you know that?”

“I’ve my ways. So are you going to sit or am I going to have to look up at you?”

They sat and a minute later a nurse arrived with a chipped china teapot filled with hot chocolate. Sister Margaret’s hands were wrinkled, but steady as she lifted the pot and poured the thick, brown liquid into a cup. She looked almost dainty, holding the cup and saucer like a lady having afternoon tea, but then she opened her mouth.

“So again I ask, what the hell do you want?”

“You were the one who brought me to the hospital the day I fell?” Darcy asked and she apparently didn’t need to give any more detail because understanding flashed in the nun’s beady eyes.

“Yes. I was very sorry to hear about your baby.”

The sincerity was so unexpected that Ember stared at the older woman slack-jawed.

Sister Margaret didn’t miss a beat when she said, “You’ll want to close that. The flies in this place are nasty.” Ember snapped her mouth closed.

“He didn’t die,” Darcy said softly.

It was interesting watching the emotions that moved across her old, wrinkled face. Darcy saw both anger and confirmation.

“How do you know this?”

“My mother told me she was paid to lie. She’s been compensated ever since to maintain the lie.”

“Interesting.”

“You know something. What aren’t you saying?” Darcy demanded.

Instead of getting angry, Sister Margaret looked almost pleased before she said, “I will say that I believe what happened with your child was the final move in a battle of wills that has been going on for a very long time. I think to find the answers that you seek, you need to go back to the beginning.”

“Meaning?” Darcy was beginning to lose her temper.

“Heidi knew a lot about a lot of people. But how did she find her information and, more importantly, where did she keep all of her information? Blackmail only works when you’ve actually got dirt on someone.”

Darcy was pondering that when Ember chimed in. “St. Agnes’s attic.”

Sister Margaret looked at Ember like she was her star student. “Heidi lived at St. Agnes and the attic is just filled with stuff. It’s the perfect place to hide something.”

“That actually explains a lot, like why Heidi was always hanging around St. Agnes and the creepy way she lurked around. But how is Heidi involved in my son’s kidnapping?”

“Like I said, start at the beginning. Find out who Heidi was blackmailing and you’ll find out what happened to your child.”

Anger turned Darcy’s voice hard. “Do you know where my child is?” she demanded.

Compassion, which looked completely out of place on the older woman’s face, softened the hard lines of her features. “No, I don’t, but I think he’s closer than you think.”

D
arcy slammed the door of the nursing home. “I would like to strangle that woman, but I’ve known her long enough to know she isn’t going to tell us anything more.”

“We can go to St. Agnes and take a look around in the attic,” Ember offered.

“I’d like to, but I’m too wired to do that now.”

“So, back to Sister Margaret’s riddle. We know of a few people that Heidi was blackmailing: my husband, Trace’s uncle, and one of the Carmichaels, at least.”

“Well, we can rule out Trace,” Darcy said, earning a smile from Ember.

“And Charles has been very forthcoming about his involvement with Heidi, so that leaves the Carmichaels. Trouble is there are four of them.”

“Figures,” Darcy huffed.

“I think we can rule out the youngest of them because he was the one to tell us about the blackmailing and had, at one time, been party to Heidi’s activities. Maybe if we sat down with him, we could get him to share more about his family,” Ember said.

“Do you think he would?”

Ember held her stare and said, “Only one way to find out. Let’s ask.”

“Who exactly are we asking?” Darcy asked.

“Dane Carmichael.”

Dane had decided to keep a low profile until Heidi’s killer was found. As much as it pained him to do so, he had been sober for two weeks. He needed to keep his wits about him if he didn’t want to be staring down the barrel of gun.

His father had learned that his competition in the senatorial race had stepped down, leaving the way clear for him to take his fourth consecutive term. Dane really didn’t mind. When his dad was happy and busy with work, he left Dane alone.

He was reaching for his water and wishing it was a Scotch, when he felt the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end. A minute later, two women sat down at his table. His first thought was of Lena and how she would misinterpret the situation.

And then he saw that one of the women was Ember Walsh. No, it was Montgomery now.

“I didn’t do anything.” He immediately turned to look behind him for her husband.

“Relax, Dane, we’re here to talk,” Ember said, but Dane still kept one eye on the door.

“How did you find me?” Dane demanded.

“I called Lena,” Ember said, and Dane made a mental note to not share his whereabouts with Lena again.

“Does your husband know you’re here?”

“No.”

“Is he likely to show up, misread this, and rearrange my face again?”

An arrogant smile spread over Ember’s face. “Keep your hands to yourself and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Right.”

He really wanted a hit of something mind-numbing. His eyes moved to the other woman and—damn, she was fine. Instinct kicked in. “Hey, how you doing?”

Her reaction was not what he was expecting. She actually rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously? Does that even work?”