there without expression as the mercifully short service was concluded.
Eden’s son, Jacob Voxx, looked decidedly ill at ease at her side. Of course, it was broiling hot beneath the sun and he was dressed in a somber black suit and tie. One sleeve dangled uselessly at his side. Since his left arm had provided passage for one of the killer’s bullets, it was still in a sling to restrict its movement. That would be enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but Leigh suspected it was only part of the reason Jacob glanced once more to his left.
Leigh’s twin sister, Hayley, stood beside Bram Myers. His large, strong hand rested lightly—protectively—on her shoulder. Hayley looked incredibly good for someone who had twice nearly died at the same murderer’s hands.
Leigh decided it was hard not to feel a twinge of envy looking at the couple. She and her sister had always shared a special bond—that would never really change. But while Leigh had been in England visiting friends, her sister had forged a new bond—one Leigh couldn’t share.
Bram Myers was a large, rawboned man, handsome in a dark, intense sort of way. Ten years older than her sister, he might not think he wanted to marry again, but it was a foregone conclusion for everyone else. If there was ever a couple that belonged together, it was the two of them. Leigh wondered if Bram was aware that he maintained a subtle, physical contact with Hayley whenever they were together.
While Leigh envied her sister, she doubted she could ever open herself emotionally to another person so completely. Trust came a lot harder to her than it did to Hayley.
Restlessly, Leigh tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and decided she was definitely going to adopt her sister’s new, carefree hairstyle as soon as she could get into town to see the beautician. Not only was her current style hot and heavy in the summer heat and humidity, the shorter, sleeker look was a much better image for someone about to embark on a new dream job as a computer programmer for an exciting start-up company involved in the telecommunications industry.
As Hayley and Bram exchanged a private look, Leigh’s gaze skated to the couple standing slightly behind them. George and Emily Walken stood side by side. They had been family friends, and Heartskeep’s closest neighbors, since before Leigh had been born. The childless couple had always taken in troubled foster youths, and since her grandfather’s death and her mother’s disappearance, they’d taken in Hayley and Leigh as well.
When Marcus had been murdered, the couple had shielded them from the media. They’d run interference with the authorities, offered them a place to stay, and helped in every way they could. Leigh would never forget their kindness. Being around them was the next best thing to having her mother and grandfather back.
Off to one side, Odette Norwhich scowled darkly at everyone and no one. Eden had recently hired the woman as Heartskeep’s live-in housekeeper. While Leigh had only seen Mrs. Norwhich a few times since she’d been back, she’d concluded the woman always looked like that. Hayley assured her that Mrs. Norwhich actually had a softer side, but Leigh had yet to see one.
Leigh let her gaze travel around the circle to the other people who now walked forward to offer their condolences. Since the service had been private, there were blessedly few of them. She pasted a smile on her face and spoke briefly to each person, relieved when it was finally time to go. Marcus had been their father, in fact, but never in deed. And while he’d lived at Heartskeep as long as they had, he had never belonged there.
Leigh started to follow her sister and Bram, when a gust of chilled air swept her body. Except there wasn’t the faintest trace of a breeze. As she turned slowly, her gaze skipped over the abandoned coffin and the scattered grave sites surrounding it. A solitary figure stood several yards away. Her breath constricted painfully in her chest and her heart began to pound.
What was he doing here?
Riveted in place, she stared helplessly as memories ambushed her without mercy. It wasn’t fair. She’d dealt with these emotions years ago.
“Leigh? Is something wrong?” Hayley asked.
Everything. The mere sight of Gavin Jarret shouldn’t affect her so deeply after all these years.
“Leigh?”
She focused on Hayley’s hand, warm against the bare skin of her arm. Bram’s dark eyes mirrored her sister’s concern. Leigh managed to shake her head. Quickly, she sent her gaze to the coffin.
“I should be feeling something, shouldn’t I?” she asked, relieved that her voice sounded normal.
Hayley’s features tightened. She barely gave the coffin a glance. “Relief?”
After a second, Leigh nodded sadly. “He was still our father.”
“‘It takes more than a biological act to be a father’ isn’t just a saying, it’s a fact. You know as well as I do that the only thing Marcus loved was his roses. Come on, we need to get out of this heat.”
Leigh let her sister lead her away. When she cast a final look over her shoulder, Gavin was gone, but she glimpsed another figure darting between the headstones. Definitely not a mourner. Maybe a celebrant who’d come to make sure Marcus was really dead?
She chided herself for the nasty thought. More than likely, a photojournalist had been snapping pictures for some tabloid. The recent events at Heartskeep had made the Hart family headline news once more. Marcus would have hated that.
As far as Leigh was concerned, the media could print whatever they liked. Still, as they reached the car, she couldn’t prevent her gaze from sweeping the cemetery once more. Gavin was gone. She told herself she was relieved. He was the last person she wanted to talk with.
Was his presence the reason she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen?
“YOU WILL HELP ME,” Martin Pepperton snarled. The horse at his back danced several steps sideways and snorted, reacting to his angry tone.
Nolan backed to the stall opening to give the large animal more space. He shot a quick glance around the empty barn, feeling dangerously exposed.
“This is no place for this discussion,” he told Martin, noting the too-wide pupils and the man’s sagging jowls. Martin Pepperton was Nolan’s age, but at twenty-nine, Martin was not aging with grace. The youngest member of the illustrious Pepperton family was beginning to show the effects of his years of substance abuse.
Martin sneered. “What’s the matter, Nolan? Afraid of a little horse? Panteena won’t hurt you. Will you, girl? You should put some money on her next time she runs.”
The high-strung animal stomped its hoof, jerking hard on the lead Martin held. Nolan had a strong urge to walk away and not look back. It was unfortunate that he was still tied to Martin with bonds only death would sever.
“I’ve got to get back to my group,” he told Martin. “The answer is no.”
“Remember old man Wickert?”
Nolan glanced wildly around again to make sure the barn was still empty. “Shut up, Martin. That was a long time ago, and it was an accident. The old man wasn’t supposed to die.”
“Think the police will care?”
“What’s wrong with you? Even your drug-soaked brain ought to know if one of us goes down for that, all
