She tapped her pencil on her pad and hoped her scars weren’t flaming. “Is that right?”
“Yes. I sense that it’s a strange feeling to you, because in the past you haven’t let yourself be that vulnerable. And you never thought romance was in your cards. But let me tell you, Blair. It is.”
Part of her wanted to follow this lure—see if he could tell her where her relationship with Cade would lead. But wasn’t it becoming common knowledge? After their first kiss, which happened in front of dozens of police officers, hadn’t word spread all over the island?
“You’ve been hurt in the past. You’ve suffered intense grief.”
She sighed and propped her chin on her hand. “Come on, Carson. Everybody in town knows I lost my parents.”
“But your scars have caused you no end of grief, haven’t they? You put on the air of a tough broad, but the truth is that all you’ve ever really wanted was someone of your own to love you.”
Now she knew her scars were flaming. She felt her chest tightening, her heart ramming against it. “Could we get back to the interview?”
“This is part of the interview, Blair. I’m showing you how this works.”
“I didn’t come here for a reading. I’m here as a reporter.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t charge you. He is going to marry you, you know.”
Her heart jolted. “Who is?”
“This person you’re in love with.”
She stared down at her notepad as an unexpected wave of anger surged up inside her. Why Graham’s words angered her so, she wasn’t sure. Tapping her pencil on her paper, she gritted her teeth. “On the day after Lisa’s disappearance, Rani Nixon came to see you. Is that right?”
“Yes,” he said with a condescending smile. “She gave me Lisa’s sweater. I took it home and sat alone, right here in this room, holding that sweater. And that’s when I saw where she was.”
“So, did you go into a trance or something? An out-of-body experience?”
“No trance. I just saw impressions of her in her Lexus, going into the water. Very similar to the one I see of you in a wedding dress.”
She stared down at her notes and forced herself to go on. “How did you know exactly where on the river she was?”
“I just knew. It’s very hard to explain, Blair. I saw her dead in the water, and I just knew exactly where it was. Half a mile east of the Bull River Bridge. I know it sounds crazy. But that’s the way it is.”
She thought back over those Scripture passages she’d read this morning. “Carson, you mentioned that your power came from God. What religion are you?”
He seemed to stiffen. “I’m not really into religion, Blair. Not organized religion, anyway. I worship God in my mind. My body is his temple. And I like to think that the people who come to me for readings, whether it’s here or at my show, feel that their experiences are very close to religious experiences.”
That was telling. So his belief in God was ethereal. “Do you believe in heaven?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What about hell?”
“I believe in a hell on earth. How else can you describe poverty, death, depression?”
“No hell,” she jotted down. “Okay, so how about Satan?”
He chuckled as if he knew exactly what she was getting at. “Are you trying to figure out if I’m demon possessed?” He seemed genuinely delighted. “Look at me, Blair. Do I look evil?”
She had to admit he didn’t. A little silly, maybe, but not evil.
“My power does not come from the Devil or demons, Blair. I’m gifted by God. It’s as simple as that. God wanted Lisa to be found, and so he used me to do that.”
Blair jotted that down verbatim, but didn’t know if she would use it in her article. Cade was right. There would be readers who would conclude that Carson was a prophet from God.
“Blair, I think that God wants you to be happy, and he’s going to use me to help you with that, too.”
Again, anger pulsed through her. How dare he try to hit her vulnerability—and in the name of God!
“He’s already thinking about marriage, Blair. This man you love can’t imagine a life without you. I see a proposal in your very near future.”
Her heart began to swell with hope, but then she remembered the Scripture. She wasn’t supposed to listen to a psychic or believe in his prophecies. Besides, if he could really read Cade’s feelings right now, he would see only anger…not romance.
“I have to go.” She got up and shoved her pad back into her bag. “I think I have all I need.”
“You work too hard, Blair. Yet you have the potential to turn the Journal into a daily paper of great import. I advise you to hire a staff to help you and shoot high. I can already see the Cape Refuge Journal in a four-story building with dozens of employees. You’re familiar with the old South Farm Insurance Building, aren’t you? I see the Journal occupying that building, Blair.”
She paused for a moment and looked up at him. She had never thought of using that building. It was too big. It seemed too soon to think that big.
“You must not be hindered by your logic.”
It was as if he could read her thoughts.
“I see your circulation being far greater than the population of this island. You must be bold, fearless in your expansion. You must make daring decisions without looking back.”
She felt the pull of his vision, the hope of his promise…
... and suddenly realized how seductive his words could be. No wonder millions of dollars a year were spent on psychic hotlines.
She started to the door, and he followed her. “You should come to my show one night. Then you could really see me in action. You could be my guest.”
“Maybe sometime I will. Thanks for the interview, Carson.”
“So will this be in Friday’s issue?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure.”
She got to her car and pulled out of the parking lot as fast as she could. As she drove away, she understood how easily people could be taken in by him.
He told them exactly what they wanted to hear.
CHAPTER 32
The funeral was held in Savannah at an old, opulent church that Ben and Lisa had rarely attended. Seated in the pews was a Who’s Who of the wealthiest people in the area. Morgan almost felt out of place.
The priest clearly didn’t know Lisa. He talked about her in generic terms, read Scripture that had little to do with her, and gave a sermon on the battle between good and evil. She supposed that was his vague reference to Lisa’s killer, and that the good was a veiled reference to God. How sad that at a time like this, the man of the cloth could give them nothing more than that.
Rani Nixon had been asked to give Lisa’s eulogy, since she was her oldest friend. Rani had on a sleek black dress like something she would have worn on the cover of Vogue, with a sheer black sari thrown around her shoulders. Despite her sophistication and prideful carriage, she looked as fragile as blown glass.
Morgan prayed that the woman could get through it without tears.
Rani strode to the pulpit and stood there looking out at them, as if waiting for the camera to snap. Finally, she spoke. “Lisa Jackson was my best friend.” Her mouth quivered at the corners. “I met her in college, when we were assigned together as roommates. I was this tall, lanky, skinny black kid who expected someone of my race as a roommate. Lisa came in, and the first thing she said was, ‘You’re black.’” Rani smiled weakly. “She always did have remarkable insight.”
The crowd laughed softly, and Morgan’s tension melted away. Rani could do this.
“I told her that if she had a problem sharing a dorm room with someone of a different race, I would be glad to go to the housing director and ask him to move me. She looked at me for a minute and said, ‘It’s not your race that worries me. It’s your size. I was really hoping we could share our wardrobes.’”
Morgan smiled. That sounded like Lisa.
“She
hugged me then, and we began to unpack, and before the day was over, she’d found four or five of my blouses that she could wear.” She paused. “I don’t think I ever saw those again.”
More laughter. This was perfect. Since the murder, she’d only been able to dwell on the negatives in Lisa’s life. It was good to remember the things that brought smiles.
Rani’s smile faded, and her mouth trembled as she tried to hold back her tears. “We continued to live together for the next four years. We told each other every secret, concocted schemes together, and suffered through the ups and downs of romance. I remember the night she met Ben.”
She stopped then, staring down at her notes, her nostrils flaring because of the struggle going on within her. “She said it was love at first sight. That he was her knight in shining armor. That she knew…nothing bad could ever happen to her if he was in her life.”
She lost the battle with her tears then, and her face twisted with pain. Wetting her lips, she looked out at Ben, sitting in the front row. “Did you know that, Ben? Did you know she trusted you that much?”
Morgan touched Jonathan’s hand, and he squeezed. She glanced at Ben in the front row and saw that his shoulders were shaking as he wept into his hands.
Blair, who sat on the other side of Jonathan, leaned up to meet Morgan’s eyes. What is she doing? her eyes asked.
“Lisa will be deeply missed.” Rani went back to her notes. “My life will never be the same without her. No one’s will, not if they knew her well.”
She went back to her seat, wiping the tears off her face.
Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, she had expected something more. A confrontation, perhaps, given Rani’s feelings about Ben and the letters.
Unfortunately, the danger was not over. As they all got into their cars for the funeral procession to the grave site, Morgan stopped Rani. “Do you want to ride with us, Rani?”
Rani’s eyes followed Ben into the limo at the front of the line. He was weeping again and hugging a mourner. Rani’s face tightened at the sight. Morgan wondered if she’d heard her.
“Rani?”
“What? Oh, no, I think I need to ride alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” She clipped off to her Roadster and slipped behind the wheel.
“She’s right on the edge of losing it,” Jonathan said.
“And she’s sure he did it.” Morgan realized she could hardly blame her. The letters didn’t make Ben look good.
Yet Ben’s grief seemed authentic. He was clearly broken, just as he’d been the day Lisa had been found.
They drove in the silent procession to a new memorial garden that wasn’t yet sprinkled with graves.
Ben had chosen a lovely spot for Lisa’s burial—on a hill beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree and near a summer garden of marigolds, periwinkles, and brightly colored pansies. It was a soft reminder that life flourished, even where death was planted.
The graveside service was brief and somber, and after the priest had given his final words, Ben got up and hugged Lisa’s weeping parents. They clung to each other before the casket, sobbing openly.
Morgan looked at Rani, saw that her eyes were dry. She sat with her hard eyes fixed on Ben, her lips tight across her teeth. She was a powder keg about to explode…
“Stop it!”
Everyone turned to look at Rani, as she came out of her chair. Tears stained her dark face. “You’re not fooling anyone!”
Ben let go of his in-laws and turned his wet face to Rani. “What?”
“Everyone here knows you’re the one who put her in that car and shoved her into the river!”
Morgan gasped and reached for Rani. “Honey, don’t—”
Rani jerked out of her grasp and strode toward Lisa’s parents, who looked at her as if they’d just plunged into a new dimension of their grief. “He killed your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Hinton. I know he did!”
Ben stepped toward her. “Rani, I know you’re upset. We all are. But you can’t go accusing me like that. I loved her.”
Rani slapped him.
Morgan gasped as he stumbled back, almost falling.
“Are you crazy?” he shouted.
“You were having an affair!” She grabbed his shirt and shook him. “Who was she, Ben? Is she here? Did she make you do it?”
“Rani!” Lisa’s mother said.
“That’s a lie!” Ben cried. “It’s not true!”
“Did Lisa finally get wise and threaten to leave you before the election?” Rani railed. “Did you kill her for the votes, Ben? Is that why Lisa’s dead?”
Someone tried to restrain her, but she jerked away. Throwing her hands over her mouth, she ran back to her car.
Everyone stood frozen as Rani screeched away.
Morgan turned back to Ben. He stood there alone, sobbing as he looked around. “I didn’t do it,” he said softly. “I would never kill her. She was my bride. The letters were a lie.” He broke down, and several friends came to hold him up.
Morgan couldn’t escape that image of Rani’s active rage, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was right.
CHAPTER 33
Blair rode back to Cape Refuge with Morgan and Jonathan. “That was unbelievable. Dramatic, but unbelievable. And I saw Vince Barr there. I’m sure he was taking notes.”
Morgan looked back at her. “Don’t be flip, Blair. It was very sad.”
It was a day for reprimands, Blair thought. She was getting tired of it. She decided to switch gears. “Someone needs to tell Cade what happened. Jonathan, I nominate you.”
Jonathan looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Me? Why not you?”
She sighed. “Because I don’t think we’re speaking.”
Morgan twisted in her seat and looked back at her. “What happened?”
She sighed. “Today’s paper happened. He went ballistic over the headline.”
Morgan sent Jonathan a knowing look.
“Oh, don’t tell me. You two are hot about it, too?”
“Not hot,” Jonathan said. “But we wondered what you were thinking.”
Blair leaned up on the seat. “Okay, so the headline rubbed you all the wrong way. It’s no reason to question my Christianity.”
“He did that?” Morgan asked. “Oh, Blair.”
Blair leaned back and looked out the window. “He was furious at the Observer for telling about the shoes and printing those pictures, so he took it all out on me.”
“He was probably just frustrated,” Jonathan said. “His job’s in jeopardy, you know. He doesn’t need more fodder for his critics. But that’s no reason for him to question your faith.”
She thought of the things Cade had said that morning, and the pain came back again. “He did,” she said softly. “Made me wonder if he’s doubted it all along. I guess all this time he’s been thinking that I faked a religious experience just to get his attention.”
“Honey, he knows better than that.”
“No, he doesn’t, Morgan. I mean, if I was gonna do that, I’d have done it long before now. And can’t he see that I’ve changed?”
Jonathan considered her words. “Of course he does. He just got his feathers ruffled. He’s probably just tired and cranky.”
“I’m the one who hasn’t slept.” Blair was quiet for the rest of the ride home. She wondered if Cade had nursed his anger for her all day.
When they reached Hanover House, a Mercedes Roadster sat in the driveway.
“Uh-oh,” Morgan said. “Rani’s here.”
Blair perked up and got her notepad out of her bag. This could be interesting.
As they pulled up next to her, Rani got out of her car. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she had managed to pull herself together. “I need to talk to Blair,” she announced as they opened the car doors.
Blair got out of the car, bracing herself. “What is it, Rani?”
Rani faced off with her, towering above her. “Don’t write about
what I did at the funeral, Blair. Please. It wouldn’t serve any purpose.”
“Rani, you did it in public, right out in front of everybody.”
“But I just lost it! I don’t want that in the papers. The gossip will be bad enough without you confirming it.”
“I wasn’t even the only media there, Rani. This is a case of national interest now. Vince Barr from the Observer was there.”
“I’ll deal with him. But right now I’m asking you. Blair, please. If you have any decorum at all…”
Morgan and Jonathan turned to her, their eyes echoing Rani’s pleading. So many critics, she thought. So many self-proclaimed editors.
“Okay, I won’t write it. But this is the last time you or anyone else is going to tell me what to print.”
Rani let out a breath.
“Are you okay?” Morgan asked her.
Rani shook her head. “No, I’m not. He killed her, Morgan. I know he did.” She glanced back at Blair. “Off the record.”
“Off the record, off the record,” Blair mocked under her breath as Morgan led Rani to the porch. Why did people think off the record absolved them of any responsibility for the things they blurted? Didn’t she have to agree that it was off the record? Weren’t they supposed to say it before they spouted out revelations? Maybe she hadn’t been in journalism long enough, but she knew manipulation when she saw it.
Rani sat down on the swing, and Morgan took the seat beside her, patting her hand like the proverbial earth mother.
“They should have arrested him by now,” Rani said. “Or at the very least, identified the other woman. They have the shoes. The letters. They should test them for fibers, fingerprints, handwriting. I watch CSI. I know what they can do. What are they waiting for?”
“They’re going through all the evidence,” Blair said. “They’re not equipped to do this without outside help. The force is too small and their budget isn’t adequate, which is why we need a new mayor. One who’ll give enough money to the police force so they can do their jobs better.”
“So what have you found out, Blair? Sometimes reporters can get to the heart of things faster than the police can.”