"When I told my mother, she was livid. I didn't just stand up to her, Tucker, which was really all I'd hoped for. I stood in that damn, prissy sitting room of hers and I shouted, I raged, I demanded. Naturally, I apologized. Old habits die hard, but I stuck with what I needed for myself. And I headed south."

"To Innocence."

"By way of Baltimore. I knew Luis was there, doing some guest-conducting. I called ahead, so he'd be expecting me. Oh, he was thrilled, delighted. When I got to his suite, he had an intimate dinner set up. I threw a glass of champagne at him, then I really cut loose. It felt wonderful. He was incensed enough to follow me out into the hall when I left. The man in the room across the hall-I never did get his name-came out and saw Luis trying to drag me back into the room. He decked him." With her eyes half closed, she pantomimed a right jab. "One shot to that perfectly chiseled jaw, and Luis was down for the count."

"Buy that man a drink."

"That would have been proper, I suppose, but I was still revving on instinct. I did something else I'd never done in my life. I grabbed him-a complete stranger-and kissed him full on the lips. Then I walked away."

"And how did you feel?"

"Free." With a sigh she sat again. There was no trace of the headache, she realized. Her stomach wasn't knotted, her muscles weren't tense. "I still have moments, like with that phone call, when I lose that feeling. You don't dump all your baggage at once. But I know I'm never going back to the way I was."

"Good." He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. "I like the way you are now."

"So do I, mostly." Her glass had sweated a ring on the table. Caroline traced patterns in the moisture. "I may never heal the rift with my mother, and that's hard. But I've found something here."

"Peace and quiet?" he said, and made her smile.

"Right. There's nothing like a few murders to calm things down. Roots," she said, glancing up. "I know that sounds silly since I spent only a few days here as a child. But shallow roots are better than none."

"They aren't shallow. Things grow fast and deep in the delta. Even when people leave, they can't pull those roots out."

"My mother did."

"No, she only sprouted them in you. Caroline." He said her name softly and reached out to frame her face in his hands. "I hate what you went through. No, look at me," he insisted when she dropped her gaze. "Part of you still wants to be ashamed of it. And you don't want me or anybody feeling sorry for you. But I've never made a habit of repressing my feelings, so you'll have to take them as they come. I don't like thinking about you being hurt or sick or unhappy, but if all those things brought you here-right here where we're sitting-I can't be too sorry."

Here, right here, she thought, and smiled. "Neither can I."

She looked so fragile. Those fine bones, that pale skin. Fragile, until you saw what was in her eyes. There were depths there, he realized, strengths she hadn't even begun to tap. And he very much wanted to be around while she continued her self-discovery.

"There are some things I want to tell you. I'm not sure how."

She brought her hands to his wrists. "Maybe, when I'm feeling more settled, I'd like to hear them. Right now I think it might be better to let things stay as they are."

He'd always been patient, he reminded himself. But it was hard to be patient when you felt as though you were standing on a narrow ledge with the ground crumbling from under your feet. "All right." He leaned forward to touch his lips to hers. "Let me stay with you tonight."

Her lips curved under his. "I thought you'd never ask." She rose, taking his hands in hers. "Didn't you mention that if I didn't like it your way, we'd try again?"

"You didn't like it?"

"Well… I'm not quite sure. Maybe if you showed me again, I'd be able to form a more definite opinion."

"Seems fair." He eyed the kitchen table and grinned. "Why don't we start right here?" He unknotted the belt of her robe. "And we can work our way-shit."

The phone rang, and Caroline dropped her head on his shoulder. "I'd say don't answer it, but she'll just keep calling."

"I'll answer it."

"No, I-"

He caught her hands before she could tie her robe again. "Let me answer it. If I can't charm her into cutting loose for the night, you can take over."

She hesitated, then decided there was some sense in the idea. "Why not?"

He gave her a brief kiss. "Clear the table," he called over his shoulder, and made her laugh.

"Grandma," Caroline murmured as she picked up the rooster trivet, "I hope you won't be shocked." She took the empty glasses and bottle to the sink and decided her grandmother might have liked the idea of love in her kitchen.

"That was quick," she said when she heard Tucker come back in. "I've never known her to give up so easily. What did you…" The words died as she turned and saw his face. "What is it? What's happened?"

"It wasn't your mother, it was Burke." He walked to her, putting his arms around her as much to brace himself as Caroline. "Darleen Talbot's missing." He stared at their reflections again, in the shadowed window. Through a glass darkly, he thought, and shut his eyes. "We'll start the search at first light."

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I wish you'd try to get some more sleep." Tucker stood by, frustrated, while Caroline used a woman's tools to disguise the results of a long, restless night.

"I couldn't." She dabbed more concealer under her eyes and blended. "I'd just sit around and wait for the phone to ring."

"Go down to Sweetwater." He stood behind her, watching her in the tiny bathroom mirror. Despite the circumstances, he felt an odd and powerful sense of intimacy at sharing this private space, being a witness to this ageless female ritual. "Take a nap in my hammock."

"Tucker, don't worry about me. It's Darleen we all should be concerned about. And the Fullers-Junior. That little baby. God." Struggling to hold on, she stabbed the mascara brush in and out of the tube. "How could this happen?"

"We're not sure anything happened yet. She might have just run off somewhere. Billy T. said he hadn't seen her, but after Junior walloped him, he'd be apt to lie if he had."

"Then why did she leave her car on the side of the road?"

They'd been over this again and again. "Maybe she was going to meet somebody. That stretch is pretty lonely. She could have left her car and gone off with somebody else just to give Junior a bad night or two."

"I hope you're right." She dragged a comb through her hair, then turned. "I hope to God you're right, because if you're not, it might be like the others. And if it is, that would mean that-"

"Don't take it any further until it has to go there." Gently, he curled his fingers around her forearms. "Day to day, remember?"

"I'm trying." She leaned against him a moment. The tiny room was still steamy from their shower. Outside the single high window, first light was blooming. "If my mother's right, the press should be here before the day's over. I can deal with that." On a long breath she pulled back. "I can. But I feel I have to go to the Fullers to offer Happy some son of support. I'm not sure I can deal with that."

"There'll be plenty of others there for her. You don't have to go."

"I do. I can be an outsider, or I can belong. It comes down to how you treat others, doesn't it?"

Hadn't he said something very similar to Cy just the day before? It was hard to argue with yourself. "I'll come by when I can. If I can."

She nodded, glancing out the doorway when she heard the toot of a horn. "That's probably Burke. It's nearly dawn."

"I'd better go, then."

"Tucker." She took his shirt-sleeve when he turned away, then kissed him. Soft, quiet, comforting. "That's all."