“I will,” he said, the words coming almost unbidden, his voice returned.
“Rise,” she said to him, and he did so. “The Word takes pleasure in you, John Ross—as do I. Go now, and serve us well.”
He did as he was bid, departing the Fairy Glen, carrying with him the gossamer net that would snare the gypsy morph, resolving that he would do what was necessary so that finally his time of service might be ended.
It was only later, when he was back at Cannon Beach, awaiting Thanksgiving and the gypsy morph’s coming, that he began to ponder more closely the Lady’s words, and only in the past few days, as time began to narrow down and the demons close about, that he understood how he might have mistaken their meaning.
-=O=-***-=O=-
”Do you mean that, John?” Josie’s voice spoke suddenly through the receiver, interrupting his reverie. “Because I wouldn’t want you to say so if you didn’t. Not to make me feel better, certainly. And not because you think it’s the right thing to say after last night.”
He brushed aside his thoughts of the Lady and the Fairy Glen. “I’m saying it because it’s true, Josie.”
“Will you come see me, then? Tonight?”
“If I can.” He took a deep breath. “I want to promise you I will. I want to promise you a lot of things. But you were right last night. I didn’t come back for that. I’m not in a position to promise anything. Not yet, at least. One day, that could change. I hope it does. I suppose I hope for it more than anything.”
There was a long silence from the other end. He stood motionless by the kitchen phone, waiting for her to say something. Hawkeye appeared from somewhere in the back of the house, sauntering down the hallway and into the living room. With barely a glance at Ross, he wandered over to Little John and lay down beside him. The boy reached out at once to begin stroking him. The cat’s eyes closed in contentment.
“1 love you, John,” Josie said suddenly. Her voice caught. “Big surprise, huh? But I had to say it at least once. Funny, it didn’t hurt a bit. Call me later, okay?”
She hung up before he could say anything. He stared at the phone for a moment, listening to the dial tone, then placed the receiver back in its cradle. The ache he felt inside was bittersweet, and it left him wanting a resolution he couldn’t have. He should call her back. He should tell her he loved her, too. But he knew he wouldn’t.
He was still mulling the matter when he caught a glimpse of movement through the kitchen window. When he walked over for a closer look, a sheriff’s cruiser was parked in the driveway and Larry Spence was walking toward the house.
CHAPTER 24
Just from the look on John Ross’s face, Nest knew who it was even before she answered the knock at the door. Her impatience and frustration with Larry Spence crowded to the forefront of her thoughts, but she forced herself to ignore them. This visit did not concern her; it concerned Bennett Scott. Because it was necessary to talk with him about Bennett at some point anyway, she was prepared to endure the unpleasantness she was certain would follow.
“Afternoon,” he greeted as she opened the door. “Would it be all right with you if I took those statements now?”
As if she had a choice. She managed a weak smile. “Sure. Come on in.”
He clumped through the open doorway, knocked the snow from his boots onto the throw rug, and slipped off his uniform coat and hat and hung them on the rack. He seemed ill at ease, as if his size and authority were out of place here, as if they belonged somewhere else entirely and not in her home. She felt better for this, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt for him to walk on eggshells for a while.
“Armbruster finished the autopsy,” he advised conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “The young lady had enough drugs in her system to float a battleship. But the drugs didn’t kill her. She froze to death. The marks on her body were from the fall off the bluff. I’d say she lost her way and wandered off, but it’s just a guess.”