Confessions of the Heart

Ben’s mouth tightened as he glared at Gwen. “For God’s sake, do you have to do this in front of a stranger?”

Anna rose. “Perhaps I should go—”

Gwen grabbed her arm and pulled her back down on the sofa. “No, please. Don’t go yet. If Ben doesn’t want to talk about Katherine, we can change the subject. Perhaps he could tell you about his book. Now there’s an interesting topic.” Her eyes gleamed with something Anna couldn’t define and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She said cautiously, “What’s it about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben said with a dismissive shrug.

“It’s about a serial killer.” Gwen gave him a smug smile, as if she enjoyed goading him. Anna had to wonder about their relationship. The two of them obviously didn’t get along, so why did they remain in such close proximity to one another? Why hadn’t Ben moved back to Houston after Katherine’s death? What kept him in San Miguel?

“You’re from Houston so you probably remember all those murders three summers ago that the police attributed to a killer they called Scorpio,” Gwen was saying.

Anna forced her attention back to the conversation. “Yes. As a matter of fact, a girl who worked in my building was one of the victims.”

Ben turned. “What was her name?” he asked sharply.

His tone took her by surprise. “I don’t remember. Renee something.”

“Renee Canard.” It wasn’t a question.

Anna nodded. “Yes, I think that was it. She was killed in a parking garage across the street from my office. I didn’t know her, but the police came and interviewed people in the building after her body was found.”

Gwen had been sitting quietly during this exchange, but now she said suddenly, “What a strange coincidence. Ben was probably one of the cops you saw that day. You two may have even spoken, and now here you are.”

Anna’s gaze went reluctantly back to Ben. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she, that maybe such a meeting, no matter how brief, was the reason they had this strange connection.

“The killer was never caught,” Gwen said. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”

He started toward the doorway, as if he’d had enough of the conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Gwen watched him leave, then turned back to Anna with a frown. “You’ll have to forgive Ben’s manners. He’s a little…abrupt at times.”

He’d left the room, but Anna could still feel his presence. It was so odd. She’d never felt this way before. She’d never experienced such an intense attraction, and she knew he’d felt it, too. Why else had he tried to kiss her?

She strove to keep her tone even as she said, “Is he working on a new book?”

Gwen grimaced. “No. He’s working on an old case.”

“He’s still a cop, then?” Anna asked in surprise.

Gwen shook her head. “He’s not a cop. Ben will never be a cop again. Scorpio took care of that.”

“What do you mean?”

Gwen hesitated. “I don’t know how much you remember about that summer, but the police had no real suspects. They were very frustrated. Ben was one of the lead detectives on the case, and he…did something stupid. He used himself as bait to draw out the killer, and he very nearly became Scorpio’s thirteenth victim.”

Icy fingers played up and down Anna’s spine as Gwen leaned toward her, lowering her voice. “The scars on his hand and face…Scorpio did that to him. And the scars on the inside are even worse. I don’t think Ben ever recovered from that summer. He’s still convinced Scorpio will jump out of the bushes one day and finish him off.”

Anna suppressed a deep shudder. Whatever Ben was afraid of, she doubted it had anything to do with his personal safety. He didn’t seem the type of man to dwell on a close call, even one with a brutal killer. It had to be something else he feared. “I don’t remember hearing about any more victims after that summer,” she said reluctantly. “The killings stopped, didn’t they? The police thought Scorpio might be in prison for some other crime or else he was dead.”

Gwen shrugged. “No one knows what happened to Scorpio, or why the killings stopped so suddenly. But all those unanswered questions still feed Ben’s obsession.”

“Is that why he wrote the book?”

“Partly, I suppose. And partly because he was offered a great deal of money to do so. But enough of all this.” She gave Anna an enigmatic smile. “You didn’t come here to talk about serial killers, did you? You came here to talk about my sister.”

“Actually, I just wanted to stop by for a few minutes to pay my respects and now I really should be going.” Anna stood, suddenly anxious to get out of that house, away from Gwen Draven and her dark story, away from Ben Porter and his devastating effect on her. She needed space to breathe because for a moment while listening to Gwen, Anna had the disturbing notion that she was being sucked into Katherine’s life and it just might be a place she didn’t want to go.

To her relief, Gwen didn’t protest her leaving. She got up to walk her to the door. “Are you going back to Houston tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s a long drive, and I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll find a place to spend the night, and then head back first thing in the morning.”

Gwen’s gaze rested on Anna. “Look, this is none of my business, but you mentioned on the phone this morning that you’d been ill recently. That’s why you hadn’t heard about Katherine.” She paused. “Are you okay now? You seem so…fragile.”

“I sometimes tire easily, but I’m fine,” Anna evaded. “Thanks for asking. And thank you for agreeing to see me today. It meant a lot.”

“I could tell that it did when you called.”

“Katherine changed my life,” Anna said. “I wanted her family to know that.”

Gwen smiled. “Someday you’ll have to tell me more about your relationship with my sister, but right now, I won’t keep you. There’s an inn on Old River Road called Casa del Gatos. It’s sort of a cross between a bed and breakfast and a small hotel. It’s actually quite charming if you don’t mind rustic. When you leave here, just follow the street to the bottom of the hill and turn left. The hotel is all the way at the end. Some of the rooms have a nice view of the river.”

Anna nodded. “Thanks. I’ll look for it.”

The two women said their goodbyes, and Anna headed down the steps of the veranda, then crossed the lush grounds to the street. She paused at her car, glancing back at the house and wondering if she’d accomplished what she’d set out to.

Neither Gwen nor Ben had spoken about Katherine’s suicide, but Anna supposed that was to be expected. She was a stranger after all. No reason they would open up to her.

But at least she’d been able to see for herself where Katherine had lived. She’d met her sister and husband, and had seen evidence of the very rich and full life Katherine had led.

So why had she committed suicide?

And why had Anna come away from Katherine’s home deeply disturbed? It was as if there’d been something simmering just beneath the surface she hadn’t quite been able to see.

As Anna stared up at the house, a movement from a third-story balcony drew her attention. Someone stood just beyond the railing, staring down at her. At first, she thought it was Gwen, but Anna wasn’t sure even Gwen, for all her obvious physical fitness, would have had time to rush up two flights of stairs to the third story.

It suddenly occurred to Anna that the watcher might be Katherine’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Gabriella, the one who had been playing the piano earlier. Anna couldn’t distinguish her features, but for some reason she had the impression the girl was scowling at her with displeasure.

As their gazes met from a distance, a chill lifted the hair at the back of Anna’s neck, and rather than waving a greeting, she opened the car door and climbed inside.

Chapter Four

Ben stood at the window of his second-floor office and stared down at the heavily landscaped grounds that were already deep in shadow even though the sun still lingered just above the horizon. Soon it would be twilight, and every bush and tree would become a potential hiding place for evil.

He grimaced, thinking that he might be starting to sound a little too much like Margarete Cortina, a local woman whose rants about demons and spirits, along with her devotion to a rather bizarre religion, had made her something of a laughingstock in San Miguel.

But Ben wasn’t laughing, nor was he so quick to dismiss her beliefs as the ramblings of a mad woman. And for one simple reason. Like Margarete, he knew evil existed. He’d seen it. He’d almost been destroyed by it. And he would be a fool to dismiss the clues, no matter how subtle, that warned him now the evil was back. In a different form, maybe, but still deadly, nonetheless.