"You have proof?"

"Nope." She pulled in a deep breath. "There's more. They may even have begun resorting to murder."

"Go on."

"The deaths are masked as suicides or accidents. A drowning during a fishing trip, a farmer falling under his tractor, a hanging, a-"

"-doctor setting himself on fire."

"Yes," she said evenly. "Things like that."

"Avery, you're not up to this. You're not thinking clearly right now."

"I can handle it. I haven't lost my objectivity."

"Bullshit and you know it."

She did, but she wasn't about to admit that. "I just want to find out the truth."

"And what is the truth, Avery?"

"I'm not certain. The story could be a work of fiction. My source is-"

"Less than credible? Unreliable? His motivations questionable?"

"Yes."

"They always are, Avery. You know that. And you know what to do."

Follow leads. Find another source. Prove information accurate.

"Not as easy as it sounds," she said. "This is a small community. They've closed ranks. Others, I suspect, are frightened."

"I think you should come back to Washington."

"I can't do that. Not yet. I have to pursue this."

"Why's that, Avery?"

Because of her dad. " It'd make a good story," she hedged. "And if it's true, somebody's getting away with murder."

"It would make a good piece, but that has nothing to do with why you want to go after it. We both know that."

In her editor's vernacular, admitting the story had potential equaled a green light. "It's the stuff Pulitzers are made from," she teased.

"If what you're telling me is true, it's the stuff that fills morgues. I want you back at your desk, Avery. Not laid out on a slab."

"You worry too much. Got any suggestions?"

"Look closely at the facts. Double-check your own motivations. Then go to people you trust." He paused. "But be careful, Avery. I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted you back alive."

CHAPTER 29

Avery took her editor's advice to go to people she trusted. She decided to start with Lilah, who she had been meaning to pay a visit to anyway.

She parked her rental in the Stevenses' driveway and climbed out. Their garage door was open; Avery saw that both Lilah's and Cherry's cars were parked inside.

Avery made her way up the walk, across the porch to the door. She rang the bell. Cherry answered.

"Hey," Avery said.

The other woman didn't smile. "Hey."

"I stopped by to see how Lilah was feeling."

Cherry didn't move from the doorway. "She's better, thanks."

Avery had been meaning to call Cherry and apologize for the way she'd snapped at her at her father's wake, but hadn't. Until that moment, Avery hadn't realized just how badly she had hurt the other woman. Or how angry she was. Her reaction seemed extreme to Avery, but some people were more sensitive than others.

"Cherry, can we talk a moment?"

"If you want."

"I'm sorry about the other night. At the wake. I was upset. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I've been kicking myself for it ever since."

Cherry's expression softened. In fact, for the space of a heartbeat, Avery thought the other woman might cry. Then her lips curved into a smile. "Apology accepted," she said, then pushed open the screen door.

Avery stepped inside and turned to the younger woman who motioned toward the back of the house. "Mother's on the sunporch. She'll be delighted to see you."

She was. "Avery!" the older woman exclaimed, setting aside her novel. "What a pleasure."

Lilah sat on the white wicker couch, back to the yard and its profusion of color. Sun spilled through the window, bathing her in soft, white light-painting her the picture of Southern femininity.

Avery crossed, bent and kissed the woman's cheek, then sat in the wicker queen's chair across from her. "I've been worried about you."

She waved aside her concern. "Blasted allergies. This time of year is such a trial. The headaches are the worst."

"Well, you look wonderful."

"Thank you, dear." Lilah shifted her gaze to her daughter. "Cherry, could you bring Avery an iced tea?"

Avery started to her feet. "I can get it."

"Nonsense," Lilah interrupted. "Cherry's here. Would you mind, sweetheart? And some of those little ginger cookies from the church bake sale."

"No problem," Cherry muttered. "Got to earn my keep, after all."

Avery glanced at the girl. Her features looked pinched. Avery cleared her throat. "Really, Lilah, I can get my own dri-"

Cherry cut her off. "Don't worry about it, Avery. I'm used to this."

After Cherry left the room, Lilah made a sound of frustration. "Some days that girl is so testy. Just miserable to live with."

"We all have bad days," Avery said gently.

"I suppose so." Lilah looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. When she lifted her eyes, Avery saw that they sparkled with tears. "It's been…difficult for Cherry. She shouldn't be taking care of us. She should have a family of her own. Children to care for."

"She will, Lilah. She's young yet."

The woman continued as if Avery hadn't spoken. "After Karl left, she changed. She's not happy. None of my children-"

Lilah had been about to say that none of her children were happy, Avery realized. Hunter she understood. And to a degree, Cherry. But what of Matt?

Avery reached across the coffee table and caught Lilah's hand. She squeezed. "Happiness is like the ocean, Lilah. Sometimes swelling, sometimes retreating. Constantly shifting." She smiled. "Sudden swells are what make it all so much fun."

Lilah returned the pressure on her fingers. "You're such a dear child, Avery. Thank you."

"Here you go," Cherry said, entering the room with a tray laden with two glasses of tea, sugar bowl and plate of cookies. Each glass sported a circle of lemon and sprig of mint.

She set the tray on the coffee table. The cookies, Avery saw, were arranged in an artful fan, atop a heart-shaped doily. "How lovely," Avery exclaimed. "Cherry, you have such a gift."

She flushed with pleasure. "It was nothing."

"To you, maybe. I could no sooner put this tray together than run a marathon in world record time."

"You're too sweet."

"Just honest. Join us?"

"I'd love to but there are some things I wanted to do this afternoon. And if I don't get to them, it'll be dinnertime and too late." Cherry turned to her mother. "If you don't need anything else, I'll get busy?"

Lilah waved her off, and for the next few minutes Avery and the older woman chatted about nothing more weighty than the weather. When the conversation lulled, Avery brought up the subject most on her mind. "Buddy told me that back in the eighties you were part of a civic action group called Seven Citizens Who Care."

She drew her eyebrows together. "Why in the world did he do that?"

"We were talking about Cypress Springs. How it's such a great place to live." Avery reached for a cookie, laid it on her napkin without tasting. "Said you enacted real change in the community."

"Those were difficult times." She smoothed the napkin over her lap. "But that's ancient history."

Avery ignored her obvious bid to change the subject. "He said Pastor Dastugue was part of the group. Who else was a member of The Seven?"

"What did you say?"

"The Seven, who else-"

"We didn't call ourselves that," she corrected sharply. "We were the CWC."

She had struck a nerve, no doubt about it. Ignoring the prickle of guilt, she pressed on. "I'm sorry, Lilah. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." She smoothed the napkin. Once. Then again. "Of course you didn't."

"Was there another group called The Seven?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Your response…it seemed like The Seven might be something you didn't want to be associated with."