Leann Sweeney - A Wedding To Die For

She stared for a long moment, then turned back to me. “Can I talk to her?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see if the chief—”

The door opened and Quinn was there. She must have been listening the whole time. “I’ll take you to her,” she said to Megan.

After Quinn opened the door to the interrogation room, she left Megan with her mother and returned to me. We watched the scene unfold together.

Megan stood by the door and Laura rose slowly. Her cuffed hands hung loose in front of her and her shoulders slumped with the weight of regret and pain.

Megan’s chin quivered and tears fell down her pallid cheeks. Finally, she held out her arms.

They walked toward each other, and when they met, Laura lifted her tethered hands and held her daughter’s face. They stared into each other’s eyes, both of them crying and laughing at the same time. Then Megan put her arms around her mother and held fast.

It was like the best silent movie I’d ever seen.

It took several months for the powers that be to figure out what to do with Sylvia Beadford and Holt McNabb. When the DA finally decided, Jeff and I were in bed—naked, if you want the interesting details. He was asleep, as men tend to do after lovemaking, and I was watching the late news. According to the television reporter, neither McNabb nor Beadford would go to trial. They’d both plea-bargained for twenty to life, which meant they’d get out sooner than later.

Quinn had warned me that’s what would happen. Sylvia and Holt had been pointing the finger at each other since the moment they’d been caught. The he said-she said cases tended to end with less than enough jail time for both criminals. And they were criminals.

“Those two fell through a toilet hole and came out smelling like Chanel N°5,” I said, stabbing the remote to blacken the TV.

“Huh?” Jeff looked up at me through slitted eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” I said.

“Sure. Okay.” He turned on his side.

I switched off the bedside lamp and curled around Jeff’s warm body. I hoped Megan and Travis were cuddled up together, too. They’d bought a little house in Houston and seemed as happy as possums eating persimmons last time I saw them.

Laura Montgomery had fared better than Holt and Sylvia. She’d visited me last week with her brand-new electronic ankle bracelet, provided free of charge by the criminal justice system. She’d done only ninety days in jail, thanks to a compassionate judge who understood that Laura had already done about twenty years of hard time thinking that her child was dead.

She and I had talked for a long time, and she was able to finally answer a few questions that had been bugging me for months.

“When I, uh, visited your house,” I’d said as we shared coffee at my kitchen table, “I noticed you had a hefty bank account that seemed to disappear. If that was the embezzlement money, where did it go?”

“I gave it back to James. Once he found out I was pregnant with his child and that if I was convicted—as I surely would have been—I’d be having the baby in prison, we made a deal. He got me out of the country with a new identity, and when I was safely established, I gave him back his money.”

I rested my chin on my hands. “So that’s how his lawyer found you and got the midwife to steal Megan?”

“Yeah. James forgot to mention that part of his grand plan. That’s what you get for trusting the devil. Twenty years in hell.”

“Okay. Here’s another question,” I said. “How did you end up at the Beadford place the night Holt nearly made me walk the plank?”

“I had still been following Megan. It gave me such a thrill every glimpse I got of her, even though I knew it would have to end soon. Once I returned to Jamaica, I was certain I’d never see her again.”

“But Megan didn’t get home until well after the trouble went down, so you certainly didn’t follow her there.”

“You didn’t let me finish. I was out in the funeral home parking lot, waiting for the visitation to end so I could see my daughter. You left with Sylvia. And then not a second later Holt McNabb came out. Call it intuition, but he had this look on his face that was downright evil. I knew in my heart he meant you harm. And after meeting you, I could tell how much you cared for Megan. I had to help if I could.”

“And so you did.” I smiled.

“Not much. Anyway, the reason I came here was to thank you for all you did for Megan, for bringing us together. I don’t have much money, but since my sentence won’t allow me to return home to Jamaica, I was hoping you’d accept the profit from the sale of my house as a bonus to whatever Megan has paid you.”

“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “But there is something you could do.”

“You name it.” She’d flashed a great smile, so very much like Megan’s. And since Laura knew I was no devil, she’d made another deal that morning.

I lifted my arm and pressed the light button on my watch. In about seven hours someone else would be smiling—a wide white smile complemented by shiny brown eyes.

Jug would be opening the overnight mail envelope I’d sent today, the one containing the legal documents and keys to his new house in Kingston.

And he knew exactly where to find the place.