She watched Memphis, his arms around Evan, the joy on his face. She was so happy for him. Having Evan taken from him so abruptly, and to have her restored, brought back from death, was too much. She couldn’t help but feel a small gnawing at her heart. Memphis would never look at her in the same way again, not now that he had his Evan back. She wasn’t jealous, not at all, but felt the sadness of the inexplicable shift that happens in every relationship, the moments of before and after that change the color and complexity of life.

No child, but the chance at redemption. They had time to create another life. They had a future.

And so did she.

To her left, there was movement. Baldwin, dressed for the weather, stood stoically watching the reunion. He looked over at Taylor. Things weren’t right between them, not all the way, not yet. But she could hope.

Baldwin held out his hand to her.

“Come home, Taylor. Please, just come home with me. We can figure everything out there.”

That’s what she wanted, more than anything.

“I need you to promise that from here on out, if we’ve got any hope of surviving, you will be honest with me. No more secrets. No more lies. I can’t take any more deception from you.”

He nodded. “Taylor, you know everything. Everything that I know. I promise. I’ll never hold back from sharing with you again.”

She looked at the man who’d fought for her so hard, through everything, through bullets and transgressions and serial killers and false starts, the man she knew in her soul she would spend the rest of her life with. He stood so still, his face hopeful, the hand he extended more than just a chance for succor, but the opportunity of a lifetime.

With a last glance over her shoulder at Memphis and Evan, she turned to Baldwin, resolute, and took his hand, smiling.

“Let’s go home.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks first to my outstanding team: my dear agent Scott Miller and his trusty sidekick Alex Slater at Trident Media, my wonderful editor Adam Wilson, my awesome publicists Megan Lorius and Melanie Dulos from MIRA Books and Deborah Kohan and Anna Ko at Planned Television Arts, and all the booksellers and librarians who’ve played such a role in making these books a success.

The rest of the MIRA/Harlequin team all have my enduring thanks: Donna Hayes, Alex Osuszek, Loriana Sacilotto, Craig Swinwood, Valerie Gray, Margaret Marbury, Diane Moggy, Don Lucey, Adrienne Macintosh, Maureen Stead, Nick Ursino, Tracey Langmuir, Kathy Lodge, Emily Ohanjanians, Karen Queme, Alana Burke, Jayne Hoogenberk, Tara Kelly and Gigi Lau. I would be remiss not to thank Sheryl Zajechowski and Natalie Fedewa from Brilliance Audio for all their hard work, and the amazing Joyce Bean, who brings these stories to life so artfully and effortlessly.

Thanks also to my tribe: Laura Benedict, Jeff Abbott, Erica Spindler, Allison Brennan, Toni McGee Causey, Alex Kava, Jeanne Bowerman, Jill Thompson, Del Tinsley, Paige Crutcher, Cecelia Tichi, Jason Pinter and Andy Levy. Molto grazie to the wonderful writers and readers of Murderati, who keep me honest. Joan Huston’s gimlet eye did a great job, as always. And thanks to Zoë Sharp, who read for Britishisms and Scottishisms and helped me make Memphis a proper lord.

Many thanks to Sherrie Saint and Dr. Sandra Thomas—you know what for. Dr. D.P. Lyle answered questions on aphonia and dysphonia. Bill Sites and Jan Schweitzer, from Ward-Potts Jewelers in Nashville, turned me on to the concept of the poison ring. My Twitter Chickadees and Facebook friends kept me going when the going got tough.

Madeira “Maddee” James, BG “Trixie Gardner” Ritts and Penelope Micklebury all gave money to charity to become characters in this book. Bless you all—I can’t thank you enough for your generosity and courage. Note that these three woman are all heroes, regardless of what license I took with their names.

Research for this book was extensive, including two trips to Scotland. The folks at Blair Castle in Scotland were a huge help, as were the McBeans, proprietors of the Lochardil House in Inverness and distant relations of my husband. The Glasshouse in Edinburgh got me turned onto Laphroaig, so many thanks for that. Every place we visited in Scotland was stellar—we were welcomed with perfectly Scottish weather, open arms, ready stories and delicious food. I can’t wait to set another book there.

I had a lot of cheerleaders while writing this book, but none so vociferous as my parents, who commiserated with every moan and congratulated every milestone. I couldn’t do this without you.

And my darling husband, who doesn’t need to read this one because I read practically every word and thought aloud as we went. Love you more, sweetie.

ISBN: 978-1-4592-1382-1

WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE

Copyright © 2011 by J.T. Ellison

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