Chapter 24: The Lit Windows

The driver took us home through the dark with the lanterns of Marl Street still in the back window.

Neither of us spoke in the van.

Conroy held my hand on the seat between us and ran his thumb over the ring.

In the east wing the lamp was on.

The bed had been turned down by someone who knew exactly what the night was.

He rolled to the edge of the mattress and locked the brakes.

"Come here, Mrs. Weatherford," he said.

"I'm still Lacey."

"Mrs. Weatherford Lacey."

"That's better."

I stood in front of him in the yellow light.

I took off the wedding dress and the slip, one piece at a time, until I stood bare.

He watched every inch.

"I can feel that," he said quietly. "Just looking."

"Show me."

"Come closer."

I stepped between his knees.

He put his hands on my hips and his mouth on my stomach, and my knees went soft.

He lifted me with his arms, onto the bed, onto my back, and pulled himself up beside me.

He did not hurry.

He kissed my mouth for a long time.

Then he kissed my throat, and the place under my ear that made me arch.

His hand slid down my belly.

"Wait," I said.

He stopped at once.

"I have to tell you something," I said. "And I need you to believe me."

"Tell me."

"I died, Conroy."

His hand went still on my skin.

"The first time, on my birthday. The Drummonds took me to the lake house and killed me in that boathouse, with that axe."

My voice stayed level.

"And then I woke up that same morning."

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