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  “Dillon Archer,” Marissa said loudly. “Dillon Archer!”

  “I heard you the first time, Marissa. You said this came today?”

  “Yes. When I got home, Catherine and James were here. She said I’d received several Christmas cards. It was in an envelope and I’m sure she didn’t pay much attention to it.”

  “An envelope without a stamp. Hand delivered.” Eric looked beyond her, his gaze lost in thought. Finally, he said, “I can see Dillon writing something like ‘Together forever,’ but ‘Tyger! Tyger! burning bright—’”

  “I don’t picture Dillon reading William Blake, either, but that’s such a well-known stanza and it’s one that would appeal to him.” Eric looked at her. “Don’t you think it would have been something he liked, something he’d remember?”

  “I don’t know Dillon’s tastes in poetry, but I can imagine him liking this better than some sweet love poem.”

  “Me, too. I suppose it’s because of what he did to Gretchen. ‘What immortal hand or eye / Could frame thy fearful symmetry?’” Marissa closed her eyes. “Eric, in one day I’ve received a morbid but romantic picture of Dillon and me at the falls and later an effigy of me lying beside a fire,” she said softly. “I think he’s telling me that I’m his, whether by choice or by force.”

  2

  Almost immediately, Eric’s cell phone rang. He swore and then announced there had been an attempted armed robbery of the convenience store on Chadwick Street with shots fired. He had to leave immediately after making Marissa promise to lock and dead-bolt the door and spend the evening in the house and not even take Lindsay out for a quick visit to the lawn before bedtime. “And if anyone calls about the fire, I’d brush it off as a prank,” he said earnestly. “We don’t want to stir up a lot of excitement. After all, if Dillon is behind this, it’s just what he’d like.”

  “You think I need surveillance?” Marissa asked anxiously.

  “Yes, but I won’t have anyone free until tomorrow night. Until then, I want you to use this.” He held out a can of Mace. “I’m sure you can read the directions by yourself. And Marissa, don’t go anywhere without it and keep it handy—not in the bottom of your tote bag buried under all that stuff you women carry.” He smiled, looked as if he were going to kiss her, then quickly turned and headed for the door.

  After he left, Marissa’s thoughts roiled. Could Dillon Archer really be responsible for her wreck or for the fire? Who else? She would never say she didn’t have an enemy in the world—she believed everyone had at least a few people who didn’t wish them well. But people who wished her dead? She could only think of one.

  Marissa realized her cold hands were trembling. She couldn’t draw a deep breath and she felt the muscles pulling between her scalp and her back with enough force to break her neck. She knew this feeling well. It would lead to one of the migraine headaches she’d experienced ever since Gretchen’s death and she would not give in to one of those migraines now, she decided. They blurred her senses and she needed to be completely alert.

  Marissa took a MAXALT for the headache. She’d recently read that some doctors administer Botox for migraines. She might try it, she decided. If the Botox didn’t help her migraine, it would at least give her the forehead of a fifteen-year-old.

  In case the MAXALT didn’t work, she needed a distraction. Marissa turned on the television and flipped through six different shows but couldn’t concentrate on any of them. So much for cable TV, she thought. She picked up a fashion magazine and discovered she hadn’t the least interest in patterned tights or flared coats.

  She wandered to the stereo, glancing at some of the CDs her mother had listened to until the last month of her life. Marissa smiled. Annemarie had loved to dance to the rock music that had been popular when she had met Bernard. She’d told Marissa he would dance whenever she wanted back then. Only after they’d been married a couple of years had he told her dancing to rock music made him feel like a fool and Bernard Gray had officially retired to the sidelines of the dance floor.

  Annemarie hadn’t, though, and often she danced with her daughters, telling them dancing could usually banish a bad mood. Marissa picked a CD and in a few minutes was absent-mindedly swaying her hips and moving her feet to Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself.” Lindsay, used to these displays, sat on the couch with a stuffed frog in her mouth, being an attentive audience.

  Marissa had just begun to concentrate on the song instead of thinking about her rose garden when suddenly Lindsay barked and ran to the front door. Oh God, no, Marissa thought. Not another semi-calamity. Lindsay wasn’t barking frantically as she had earlier, though. She barked the way she usually did when people approached the house, even before they’d knocked or rung the doorbell. Sure enough, seconds later the doorbell sounded. Marissa jumped and her heart picked up speed. She should ignore the bell, she thought. Except that Catherine might have forgotten her key. If she and James were returning, though, their date had been short.

  The doorbell rang again and Marissa couldn’t ignore its pull. “I’m worse than Pavlov’s dogs,” she said aloud. She lowered the music and moved slowly to the door, picking up a fireplace poker along the way. She looked out the peephole and on the lighted porch stood Tonya Archer, formerly Tonya Ward, whom Marissa had known since childhood. She saw no one else on the porch. Tonya looked around as if thinking of leaving and Marissa impulsively unbolted, unlocked, and opened the door.

  “Hi,” they said simultaneously, exchanging nervous smiles.

  Tonya’s smile stayed fixed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I was afraid you might not want me to come. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I’d really like to talk to you. We haven’t talked much since…well, for years.”

  “We haven’t talked at all.” A short mental battle went on in Marissa’s mind before she opened the door farther. “Come in.”

  Tonya stepped in almost tentatively and then looked down at Lindsay standing armed with her stuffed frog. “This is Lindsay, Tonya. She doesn’t bite.”

  “Lindsay!” Tonya laughed and stooped to pet the dog’s head. “Don’t tell me—you named her for Lindsay Wagner, the Bionic Woman!”

  “I can’t believe you remember.”

  “My God, Marissa, you watched the reruns and talked about Lindsay Wagner all the time. You even had a poster of her on your bedroom wall.”

  “Well, I’ve finally taken it down,” Marissa said sheepishly. “It was yellowing around the edges.”

  “But I’ll bet you didn’t throw it away.”

  “You’re a mind reader. It’s safely tucked away in my closet, where some archaeologist will find it hundreds of years from now and put it in a museum.”

  Tonya laughed and stood up. At five foot six she was taller than Marissa, and when she slid out of her coat Marissa saw that Tonya had gained a little weight, but it did nothing to spoil the enviable figure of her teenage years. She wore fashionably tight jeans and black boots. Her auburn hair hung thick and straight over the shoulders of her lavender turtleneck sweater. She looked remarkably attractive, yet her large hazel eyes seemed harder, the planes of her face sharper, than the last time Marissa had seen her.

  Marissa waited for Tonya to say something about the fire in the side yard, but either she’d parked on the street and hadn’t noticed it in the dark or she’d decided not to mention it. Instead, Tonya cocked her head. “I hear Billy Idol. You were dancing, weren’t you?”

  Marissa blushed. “No, I was just listening—you know, moving around to the music.”

  “That’s called dancing. How many times did you and Catherine and your mother and I dance in this room?”

  “Too many to remember.” Marissa finally laughed. Then her laughter died, replaced by a sad smile. “It’s been a long time since we’ve danced or even talked together, Tonya.”

  “That’s why I simply had to see you tonight,” Tonya said earnestly. “I’ve been thinking so much about you since your mother’s death and your move back f
rom Chicago. I didn’t try to talk to you at first—I knew you were dealing with your mother’s illness and I was caught up in my love life.” She smiled. “I know most people were surprised when Andrew and I got married.”

  “I certainly was. I didn’t even know you two were seeing each other, but Mom was very sick in the late spring and early summer. I didn’t go out much and not many people came to visit. They knew Mom was too sick to enjoy company. Anyway, when I told her about the marriage she was surprised but pleased.”

  “Really? She was always so kind to me.” Tonya smiled, more to herself than to Marissa. “Andrew and I eloped. No fanfare, and a quick honeymoon in New York City. Andrew said if we spent much time there, I’d spend every dollar we had on clothes. He had to get me home—fast!” They giggled. “Honestly, Marissa, my marriage has made me even happier than I’d hoped.”

  “I’m glad,” Marissa said sincerely.

  “Is Catherine here?”

  “No, she’s on a date.” Tonya’s eyebrows rose. Marissa waited a few seconds and then decided keeping her sister’s new relationship undercover was silly. “She’s having dinner with James Eastman.”

  Tonya frowned. “James Eastman? Did Renée finally come back to town to get the divorce she wanted so badly?”

  “No. James had a thorough search made for her, but no one could find her. He was able to divorce her on the grounds of desertion.”

  “No one could find her? I thought she’d go running back to Mommy and Daddy in New Orleans.”

  “They didn’t want her. We all think she’s probably with another man, only this one is rich.”

  “Maybe rich, but certainly not better looking than James. Oh well, the few times I was at an event she graced with her presence she struck me as a shallow snob and she looked at me like I was dirt under her feet. If she gave up James, though, I’ll bet she’ll regret it. Her loss, not his. I’m glad he’s dating again.”

  Tonya’s smile faded. “I know you’re wondering why I’m here. I’m nervous as hell and I can’t keep up the small talk. I’ve been thinking so much about you and Catherine, it’s almost Christmas and Andrew is working late, and…well, tonight just felt like the night I had to try to fix things between us. I know we had some serious trouble, but it was years ago and it isn’t as if we were deliberately trying to hurt each other. I don’t believe it’s something we can’t work out, Marissa. Please say we can try.”

  Tonya’s big hazel eyes looked pleading, her mouth trembled slightly, and a shallow crease appeared between her eyebrows. Marissa couldn’t remember Tonya Ward ever acting anxious and pleading. The change in her manner struck Marissa as not only odd but also suspect, as if Tonya wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  Marissa teetered on the edge of maintaining the shield that had existed between them since Gretchen’s death. If she was polite but cold, Tonya wouldn’t persist. She would leave, and maybe that was best.

  Then Marissa remembered how important she’d felt when she was young and this pretty, popular girl two years Marissa’s senior treated her has if she were an equal, as much a part of the friendship as Catherine. Suddenly Marissa felt a wave of affection for the Tonya with whom she’d spent so many happy days on the boat, trailed along with her and Catherine to movies, traded so many secrets.

  Traded so many secrets.

  “You’re right.” Marissa felt slightly guilty. She felt too doubtful about Tonya to yearn for comradeship. At the same time, Marissa couldn’t help wanting time to scrutinize this woman who hadn’t spoken to her for years and now suddenly, almost desperately, wanted closeness. Marissa managed to speak warmly: “We shouldn’t let ourselves drift apart. Have a seat on the couch. I have a nice fire going and the room is cozy. I’ll turn off the music—”

  “No, I like the music,” Tonya said quickly. “It reminds me of your mother.”

  “Good. Me, too. Would you like a glass of wine, a soft drink, coffee, hot chocolate—?”

  “Hot chocolate sounds good on a cold evening.” Tonya smiled. “With lots of marshmallows if you have them!”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call after your car wreck,” Tonya said later as she and Marissa sat down in the family room with their hot chocolate.

  “Andrew did.”

  “But it seemed as if I didn’t care. Andrew tells me everything he knows that’s going on with you, but still I feel cut off.”

  “We’ve been out of touch since Gretchen died, Tonya. We haven’t spoken since then except to say ‘hello’ and that was ages ago.” Marissa paused. “I tried to talk to you when I saw you around town, but you always seemed to dodge me.”

  Tonya looked cornered for a moment, shifted her gaze to the fire, and then said without conviction, “I didn’t know how to handle matters after Gretchen’s…accident. Our versions of what we’d seen differed so much.”

  “They really differed very little—just enough to make Dillon someone trying to save her or purposely kill her.”

  “Is that still what you remember?” Tonya asked hesitantly. “That Dillon pushed Gretchen?”

  Marissa waited a moment and then nodded. “I can see him push her thigh as if it were yesterday, Tonya.”

  Tonya continued to look into the fire while she sipped her hot chocolate. Finally she said, “We saw things differently. The light was so bad, we were all scared, but I was closer to Dillon than you.”

  “And you didn’t see his hand push against her right thigh?”

  “I saw him reaching around both thighs, or trying to, and one arm was around her, but the other arm hadn’t reached it and Gretchen started tottering and slipping—her feet were sweating—and then she…she just fell.”

  Marissa’s gaze searched Tonya. She looked truthful, yet something in her voice sounded false, flat. Marissa’s defenses went up, but she tried not to let them show. “Tonya, while we were still on Gray’s Island, we each told the police what we’d seen in the church. Andrew claimed he was too far back in the shadows to see much of anything. Eric was on the main floor and could hardly see anything in that bad light. You and I were the eyewitnesses and our stories didn’t jibe. There was an investigation, but with Dillon gone the investigation didn’t lead to his arrest.”

  Tonya finally looked at her. “Why are you telling me all of this when I already know? I was there.”

  “Just to make certain that this time we’re on the same page, not arguing over what happened after…the fall.”

  “We are.”

  “Okay.” Marissa took a deep breath. “Let’s agree that the lighting was bad, we were standing at different angles, and we saw things differently. Let’s forget the last four and a half years, act like there’s never been a rift in our friendship, and you tell me why you really came to see me tonight.”

  Tonya flushed, seemed to fumble for something to say, and finally blurted, “Marissa, I thought you were glad to see me.”

  “I am glad to see you.”

  “Then why do you sound so hostile?”

  “I’m not hostile. I just want you to be honest with me. I’ve known you a long time, Tonya, and I know when you’re not being completely truthful. You want to renew our friendship, but there’s more to this visit.”

  Tonya set her mug on an end table. “I should go.”

  “No!” The volume of Marissa’s voice startled both of them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.” Marissa closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at Tonya repentantly. “This has been a bad day for me.” She hesitated. Should she say something about the postcard? The fire?

  Marissa made up her mind in an instant. No. She hadn’t even talked to Tonya for years. The last time they were together was when Dillon had pushed Gretchen to her death, only Tonya told the police he’d tried to save her. Tonya would no doubt hear about the fire tomorrow, but Marissa intended to keep the postcard and the “Tyger” note confidential. “I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel welcome, Tonya. Your visit surprised me and it was only natural that the awful night on Gray’
s Island came up. We’ve talked about it, though, so now we can move on to something else.”

  Tonya’s face had lost color and she ran her right hand through her hair the way she’d always done when she was agitated. “You’re right. Gray’s Island was the elephant in the room. And I admit that I was nervous about dropping in on you.” She glanced at her watch. “Are you expecting Catherine and James soon? Or does she sleep at his house?”

  “Tonya, this is only their second date. Catherine does not sleep at James’s house.”

  “You don’t have to sound so prickly, like you’re talking to someone who’d spend the night with any man who’d buy her dinner!”

  The venom in Tonya’s voice stunned Marissa. “Tonya, that’s not what I was implying. I wasn’t implying anything, really, except…well, you know Catherine.”

  “Oh yes. A lady to the end of her days. She’s probably still a virgin. I wonder how James is handling that after being married to Renée?”

  Marissa fought for composure. “Tonya, are you angry with Catherine about something?”

  “No. Well, just for being with James, I guess. I had a couple of dates with him a lifetime ago. I wasn’t good enough, though. He married Renée.” She laughed harshly. “If he thought he was getting a lady, he made a big mistake. A big humiliating mistake. Luckily for James, Renée seemed to vanish into thin air just like Dillon.” Her gaze drifted past Marissa. “But I don’t think Aurora Falls has gotten rid of either of them.”

  Chapter 10

  1

  “What makes you think Aurora Falls hasn’t gotten rid of Dillon?” Marissa asked, trying to sound artless. After all, Tonya was married to Dillon’s brother. She might know more about Dillon than anyone besides Andrew.

  Tonya seemed to shudder slightly and then smiled unconvincingly. “I don’t know. I guess it’s because he was born in this town and he’ll always be part of it. I mean look at us—we haven’t seen him for almost five years, but he’s dominating our thoughts at our big reunion. Dillon seems like a part of this place and he’s causing trouble, just like now, whether he’s dead or alive.”