House of Mercy (32 page)

On the very short drive downhill from the church to the residence over the bookstore, Cat had time to settle down and think. She realized that she was angry, and her first order of business was to get to the root of her anger so that she could deal with it. If she didn’t find her center, she’d make a mistake that she’d regret. That’s exactly what had happened last time.

Last time . . . last time . . . when she had made the sick child Amelia well and then the sick child’s entire family had abandoned her, though she might have found a secure place with them. All she wanted was a little gratitude. A little loyalty. A little recognition for her selfless work.

A chair at the family table.

Beth followed Cat’s car on horseback, always just in view of the mirror. The doctor took the hairpin turns carefully as she tried to determine what she was most angry about:

Dotti, and not she, was tending to Garner at this very minute.

Nova had gone to Garner, not to Cat, for help.

A complete stranger had very nearly usurped Cat’s role in aiding Nova. What could possibly be more insulting than that, to be thrown beneath the feet of people who didn’t even live in town?

Soon individuals and then the whole of Burnt Rock would decide they didn’t need Dr. Catherine Ransom. This was the bottom line, wasn’t it? This was the truth that took all of the fury out of Cat’s heart and replaced it with a nausea dead center in her gut. Again and again, she would be left behind, designated as unnecessary. A disappointment. Nonessential. Unloved.

On the bright side, the ergot had actually worked to deliver that fetus from a horrible, selfish mother. Cat hadn’t expected that to succeed, although it might have been a nicer victory if the fungus had killed off mother and child both.

She would take good news where she could find it.

This effort to think positively put her mind back on task. What she was really, truly upset about, after all, was that the redheaded young woman with the blue eyes—the granddaughter Garner didn’t know he had—had come with an agenda to catapult Garner away from Cat.

Coming into new mental clarity, Cat no longer cared exactly what Beth had come for. All that mattered now were these three things:

Getting Nova out of her hair.

Getting Beth Borzoi out of Burnt Rock.

Getting back to Garner.

Already, even Dotti tugged at Garner’s affections, and that was trouble enough.

Cat parked at the rear of the building that she and Nova shared. She concentrated on filling her lungs with air, swelling to form a secure embrace around her rattling heart. Then she exhaled, and with these repeated, even breaths, she created a calm from the inside out, and then she created a plan to deal with Beth Borzoi.

She got out of the car and showed Beth where she could tie off the horse under a light. Then the women carefully carried Nova upstairs.

Nova’s apartment was a small place, a mirror of Cat’s, with the living room, kitchen, and dining room forming a large multipurpose area. Nova’s sense of style was rustic, with mismatched pieces of furniture and blankets tossed over the arms of chairs. The freestanding bookcases on every wall were overflowing, and there were stacks of books on the floor, on the coffee table, on the miniscule dining table. Who could need so many books when she had her very own bookstore right beneath her feet?

It didn’t matter. Besides the books was a clear spiritual element that would assist in the story Cat aimed to tell Beth. There were candle stubs in sticks, and dream catchers hanging from each corner of the ceiling, and incense cones that had crumbled and yet still hung on to their smoky aromas. There was a stack of tarot cards on the coffee table next to an academic essay about crop circles and a newsletter,
The Science of Dreams
. One bookshelf held not books but DVDs pertaining to ghosts and hauntings and the paranormal world. She saw Beth take all this in and felt certain it wouldn’t be difficult to get her to believe in the version of Nova that Cat was about to create.

“She’s a bit of an eccentric,” Cat said. “She believes in everything except common sense. A little of this, a little of that. I personally think she’s working on creating her own religion, Jim Jones style. Do you know who Jim Jones was?”

Beth glanced at her but didn’t answer. Cat sensed her caution and worried about it.

With Nova slung between them, Cat and Beth waddled under an arch into a very short passageway and then to the bedroom. They easily arranged Nova on the blankets, and then Beth left. Cat let her go, gave her silent permission to get a second look at the outer evidence of Nova’s inner life.

If Beth did, though, she didn’t remark on it. Instead she returned with a damp washcloth and a small bowl full of warm water. She began to carefully clean Nova’s bloody legs, and Cat watched her, both impressed and irritated. She itched to yank the cloth out of Beth’s hands and do this caregiving work herself. Her dislike of Nova helped her to resist.

“You seem to be a natural,” Cat said. Yet one more reason to get this girl out of Burnt Rock as soon as possible.

“Decency doesn’t require any skill.”

“Maybe not, but I know plenty of decent people who wouldn’t get someone else’s blood on their hands like this. It was great luck that you came upon Nova when you did.”

“Luck,” Beth echoed, as if she’d never heard the word before. “Was she very far along?”

“No. Look at that. Her color’s already coming back. She’s resting well.” Cat fluffed a pillow and opened a window. “When you’re done, you’ll come with me. I live next door, and you can rest there. There isn’t anything else we can do for her until she sleeps this off.”

“We shouldn’t leave her alone.”

“She won’t be alone. My door is right across the atrium. I’ll keep it open.”

It was very difficult for Cat to believe that Beth’s frown was sincere. Nova was a complete stranger to her. She couldn’t be that emotionally invested already. But Beth said, “Can’t we call someone? A friend of hers? Does she have family in town?”

Cat’s impatience flared a little. “Like I said, she’s an eccentric. If she wasn’t so pretty she’d be fit for the villain of a Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale. She doesn’t like anyone except for when they’re buying her books. You saw how she reacted to me—the very person in the best position to help her. Trust me, she’d rather be left alone than have the two of us hovering. I hate to say it, but your kindness is wasted on her.”

Beth didn’t seem to mind this and rinsed the cloth in the bowl, then continued the bathing.

“What did you give her?” Beth asked.

Why do you care?
Cat thought. But she said, “A sedative and a painkiller. She won’t wake before dawn.”

A heavy minute passed while Cat waited to see whether Beth would come away. Cat’s impulse to snatch the washcloth and throw the bloody bowl in the girl’s face was getting harder to ignore.

“Beth, I’d like to talk with you about Garner. But not here.”

“What’s wrong with this place?”

“You’ll understand soon enough. Please.” Cat stretched out her hand, beckoning, and finally Beth placed the washcloth into the bowl. She carried these out to the kitchen, where she spent a tedious amount of time washing up.

Then she followed Cat out of Nova’s apartment, and when Cat pulled the door closed behind her, Beth returned to prop it open.

Now Cat leaned into her lies in earnest. “If I’d known when I said Garner’s name that you’re his granddaughter, I would have been more sensitive.”

“About what?”

Cat led Beth downstairs, down the hall that ran behind the little bookstore and Cat’s offices, then upstairs to her own apartment.

“I lied to Nova, Beth. About Garner sending me. She’s not that close to Dotti, you see. But Garner . . .”

“But you know him, right? He lives here in Burnt Rock?”

Cat opened the door to her apartment and let Beth go in first. “Nova is something of a spiritualist. I don’t know exactly what to call her. Garner was one of the few people who actually broke through her barriers. He was a pretty open-minded man himself. He—”

“I want to see Garner now,” Beth said. She seemed to detect where Cat was going with this and maybe even thought that if she could cut off the doctor’s words, she could prevent the content from being true. She was firm. Strong. Much stronger than she believed she was. Cat could see that clearly now, and it caused her to second-guess her approach. Her faltering was brief. She quickly recommitted.

“Beth, I’m so sorry. This is very difficult for me.”

“Where is my grandfather?”

“He’s dead, Beth. He passed away two years ago. Liver cancer.” She watched the blood go out of Beth’s freckled cheeks. “Nova was so fond of him. She would have believed that his spirit, or ghost, or whatever you want to call it, would have summoned me to help her. Crazier things have happened at that church, if you know anything about it. It might have been a cruel thing for me to do, but I needed to calm her down.”

Beth stood in the middle of the apartment looking like a ghost herself, forbidden from communicating with the living. Cat avoided touching her. She indicated that Beth should take a seat on the sofa. Everything else now should be easy.

“Sit here. I know this is a shock. Truly, I’m sorry.”

Cat rushed into her small kitchen and decided that Beth didn’t have the look of a drinker. She selected a glass pitcher of green tea over the bottle of white wine and poured some over a glass of ice. She added a small amount of herbal sweetener and then, from another cabinet, withdrew a small vial of benzodiazepine, which she punctured with a paring knife. Tasteless and odorless, the date-rape drug of choice was also good for her personal use, on nights when she was plagued by nightmares or insomnia. This stuff could wipe out any bad dream, and Cat had her share of them.

She hesitated over how much to put in the glass. It was important that Beth not get sick over this, because the goal was to get her out of town fast, not to have to nurse her for a few days. She, like Trey Bateman, was not a patient Cat wanted to take under wing.

She estimated Beth’s weight, did some calculations in her head, and hoped the effects would wear off around three in the morning, give or take a half hour. That would be late enough to prevent Beth from poking around, and early enough for Beth to wake feeling normal. She could get a good start before the town woke up.

Beth was still in a speechless daze when Cat handed her the tea. She looked at the glass as if she’d just emerged from the desert, took it from Cat, and drank half of it in just a few gulps.

“How long since your last sip of water?” Cat asked.

Beth stared at the glass in her hand. “Hastings must be more thirsty than I am.”

“Your horse?”

Beth nodded.

“I’ll get him something.”

“Where can I take him? He needs food.”

“Let me take care of that for you. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Beth’s emotional strength had already left her, Cat thought. Her physical strength would follow in a few minutes. “He’s dead?” She finished the rest of the glass, and Cat thought maybe the wine would have been a better vehicle for the drug after all. She took the glass.

“I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Was he married?”

“Who, Garner?” Cat laughed. “No.”

“Is he buried here?” Beth asked.

Cat stopped laughing abruptly. She saw where this might go if she got sloppy. “Cremated,” she said. “Scattered.”

“Who handled his estate?”

“No idea. Do you want some more tea? I’ve got plenty.”

“Was there an attorney?”

Cat didn’t answer right away, and Beth didn’t appear to notice the delay. Cat mentally pieced together the motive behind the line of questions. Did Garner have money? She couldn’t imagine it, but these were the questions of a gold digger. More than anything, Cat wanted the woman to leave Burnt Rock and not come back. By morning, she’d forge a convincing rabbit trail for Beth to follow.

“I’ll ask around for you. It’s been years.”

“Just two, right? You said two.” Beth dropped her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Let’s leave the big decisions for later, Beth. You rest now. Everything will look better in the daylight.”

“You’re right. I’m so tired.”

“What did you need Garner for, Beth? I know he and your mother . . . had a falling out. Why did you come all this way? On Hastings?” She’d have to take the horse to the stables, of course. If the beast wasn’t fed and watered, it wouldn’t be able to carry Beth far enough fast enough.

Beth was asleep. Cat studied her, able to see now the line of Garner’s nose in hers, and the length of his fingers in her hands.

She locked the door on her way out, plotting the hours so she could return before Beth awakened. It was troubling that the girl felt the need to investigate Garner’s death. Cat wasn’t sure how to circumvent that.

As much as she was committed to keeping people alive, she might have to resort to killing after all.

29

T
he room smelled wrong. The blanket was the wrong texture. The moonlight was not coming through the window at the right angle. In fact, it wasn’t coming through the window at all. There was no window where it ought to have been.